


Halloween Shorts

by Leenden



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabbles, F/F, F/M, Halloween, Horror, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-12-21 07:54:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 31,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leenden/pseuds/Leenden
Summary: This is a collection of 1k word Horror Drabbles that I'm doing in celebration of Halloween. Each chapter is a new story, unless stated otherwise. These are all original stories as well.





	1. Railways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas discovers that missing a train can be the pits. If only he had the foresight to plan another way home.

Ten o’clock again, he inhaled his exasperation while pushing the ‘L’ button of his work elevator. It descended painfully slow eating into what remained of the day’s freedom.

Why him, he wondered? For the past month, he’d been asked to stay late and finish up paperwork for this project. It seemed crazy that Thomas, who’d been with the company nearly ten years now, be the one to stay, instead of one of the new guys. There must be a reason why, it wasn’t as if he was a slouch. He was a good worker and never caused any problems for the company.

That must be it. Maybe this project was too important to leave to some newbie. It wasn’t a consolation, however. He’d still get off the train a quarter after eleven, the walk home, and the time it took to get settled in, it would be nearing midnight. Thomas missed his wife, he missed his kids, and he missed having a life.

The elevator dinged, sliding open to the darkened lobby. The only light came from the security checkpoint near the front doors. Old Walters, standing ever vigilant against any bums that wanted to stop off and use the restrooms. This made Thomas smile. The overly animated old man shooing anyone away was laughable.

“Thomas, leaving late again, are we?” Walters intrigued.

“Alas, it seems to be my lot in life lately.” Thomas feigned a laugh.

“Can’t be helped, I suppose.” Walters said in his wishy-washy tone.

“No, I guess not.”

Before Walters could say anything else, Thomas urged. “I wish I could stay but I have to catch the subway.”

“Oh my, taking the subway, tonight of all nights?”

Oh good Christ, here he goes again. Walters loved telling stories about a boogieman who rides the rails and claims victims by the throngs. If left unchecked, the old man would go on for hours about it. He just wanted to spread fear to those that couldn’t afford to own a car in this city.

“Good night, Walters.” Thomas mustered, ignoring the question.

“Careful, Thomas, tonight’s the night of the-” Walters didn’t finish his fear mongering; the glass door put a stop to it.

Thomas turned his collar up. It was cold tonight, colder than the night before. It was oddly quiet too, even for a Thursday. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, nor was there any traffic to speak of. It was creepy.

Luckily, the subway wasn’t far. Not that it was any kind of silver lining at five minutes to his 10:20 ride. Thomas was late and if he didn’t hurry, he’d miss his train.

Even with running at top speed and skipping the turnstile, he reached the bottom platform in enough time to see the last car of his train pull away. It had left five minutes early but why? His heart sank; it would be at least a half hour before another train came through.

Thomas knew he was going to have to make the call. He could already hear the doubting words in his wife’s voice. She’d think he was out screwing around with some young secretary, or she would be unreasonably fine with it, which meant she was probably glad for that extra half hour of fucking the guy she as with right now.

A spike of rage rushed through him as he dialed home on his cell. The hollow ring caused his stomach to drop lower with each buzz coming through.

In was at that moment, when her rehearsed warning told him that she couldn’t come to phone right now, reminded him that there was always a third option; he’d not considered. She’s just asleep, is all.

Thomas’s sigh of relief echoed through the large expanse, traveling along the tracks like the ghost of the train meant to carry him home. He watched the numbers on his phone click over to 10:25 as he settled down on a bench, beneath the ‘Railway 221’ sign, to wait.

Someone had been kind enough to leave a paper for him. A little bit of sunshine for this bleak night. He picked it up and perusing for his favorite sections. They were missing of course. Worse yet, it wasn’t as if he could complain about it, the paper was free.

It didn’t take him long to find an interesting article. One accompanied by a rather frightening sketch.

The hollow, gaunt eyes of its twisted face only barely resembled a human. It wore a creepy, lipless grin, showing all of its huge oversized teeth against his bone white flesh. The figure was clad in black with a hood pulled up around its head like some sort of Grim Reaper.

The article that went with the image was just as haunting. ‘Some say the Grim Rider is merely a myth, a story to be shared around Halloween and why not, who doesn’t like being scared. Unfortunately, police records state a string of grisly murders occurring along Railways 218 - 222 have reached double digits since last year and no suspects have been apprehended. Police Chief Rene LeFonte stated, ‘There is no evidence pointing to something supernatural being responsible for these unfortunate incidents. This is a classic case of serial murder and not evidence points to it being just one killer. In most cases, a copycat killer will be drawn to the motive and acted out accordingly. Still, we ask folks to avoid using the subways around the beginning of October, especially after ten at night’.

October, Thomas swallowed hard, wasn’t it October 3rd. The light around him began to flicker before coming back on. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a figure standing at the foot of the stairs, but he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He jerked his phone from his pocket and went for the ‘on’ button. That’s when he saw reflection of a toothy smile right next to him on the bench.

Thomas never saw anything else ever again.


	2. Wishing Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When life gets hard for Mika, he's constantly compelled to return to his long time friend, a magic wishing well.

Along the path, through the trees, and across the downed tree, acting as a bridge, that’s how it went. Mika made that same trip every day of every summer since he was old enough to go alone.

Mika stepped through the verge and up the slope, where the grass had grown so tall it was forced to lay down under its weight. There’s where it stood, the same as it always was, untouched by time.

The wishing well hadn’t changed, not once in all this time. The same jaggedly cut stone bricks stacked this way and that. It only barely resembled a circle. The cracks filled with some archaic plaster Mika, even in his thirties, couldn’t figure out what it was made of.

A small canopy roof, crafted from old wooden shingles, hung over top as if held together by magic. The cross bar still held the same rope and bucket that had always been, even the crank still worked, though the well had gone dry some time ago.

A boyish grin crept through the stubble on his face. In a strange way, it was like coming home to a loved one after a long day.

“Hey there, it’s been a long time.” He said.

He pulled a fresh roll of quarters from his pocket just as he always did, when he came here.

The ting of the coin, leaving his thumb, was mimicked by it hitting the wall of the well on its way down below. There was a pause, a rustle of the leaves overhead as the wind came through.

The sweetest voice whispered. “You’re back.”

Mika laughed. “Of course, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I wish I could, you’ve wasted too much time and money coming here day after day.” The voice was somber in tone.

“What? How can you say that? You’re the only one that really gets me, you know?” He said.

“Be that as it may, I think it might be time for you to move on.”

“It’s not that easy for me.” He grunted, slumping against the well.

“You’ve always been there for me,” He began. “Like when my mom went missing, back when I was twelve.”

“I remember that, you were so sad.”

“You didn’t judge, you just let me cry.”

“It’s not for me to judge, honey.” The voice cooed.

Mika flipped another quarter up and in, as if he’s practiced so many times. “You were also here when-”

“Little Delores went away, first loves are the hardest to let go.”

“Yeah, she was my first kiss and at fifteen that nothing to sneeze at. Too bad she’s gone too.”

“Now don’t sound so defeated. I remember you being pretty upbeat when you got to second base with Amanda; thirteen and already being felt up by a senior.” The voice teased.

“Felt up might be a bit strong of a word, I mean, she was my babysitter. I don’t think she should have had her hands in my pants, like that.” Mika mused. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Of course not, any experience is good experience, right?”

“That’s me,” Mika scoffed, flicking another coin into the well. “I was a master of second base by the time I was sixteen, yet they all left me.”

“Don’t dwell on it, honey.”

“What’s wrong with me? Why do they always leave?”

“Some people have a problem with comfort, I guess. They all like a little drama, so they cause it when they can.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do. I mean, you have a good job, a good outlook on life, and you’re probably one of the sweetest people I know.”

“Yet it didn’t stop-”

“Sandy from leaving; I remember. How long were you two married?”

“You don’t remember?” Mike chortled. “It was about-”

“Five years, right? Are you still doing okay?”

“I’m doing alright, besides, that was almost a year ago.” Mika sniffled. “I’m sure we’ll find her and my baby too, one day.”

“You never know.” The voice comforted. “Here’s a fun thought, maybe she found a doorway to a magical land?”

Mike smirked. “Yeah and she’s there with my best friend Gill and little Suzy too. I was so sad when Ms. Lenore’s daughter went missing.”

“Yeah, you were what, fourteen? You cried so hard, it broke my heart.”

“Of course, you’re my emotional rock; I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Mika felt a wave of emotions wash over him.

“Don’t cry, hon, I’ll always be here for you. You know that right?”

“I know; you’re the only constant in my life now that dad’s gone.” Mika said, getting to his feet, depositing another quarter into the well.

“He was never fully there to begin with. He worked two jobs and drank during the times he was off.” The well reminded.

“To be fair, he was devastated after Sam and Ally left, leaving him alone with the idiot son.”

“Don’t talk like that. If you keep saying such things, you might chase me away too.”

“No, I’m sorry. It was supposed to be self-deprecating humor-”

“It wasn’t funny, it was cruel.”

“You’re right.”

Mika’s voice spiked excitedly. “I have to get going. I have a date tonight, my first since Sandy, wish me luck, huh?”

“That’s wonderful, dear. I wish you all the luck in the world.”

Mika said sheepishly. “Thanks mom and thanks for hearing me out all these years.”

“Anytime, sweetie.” The voice cooed. “You didn’t happen to bring me anything to eat did you?”

“I did!”

Mika hefted a bloody, sheet covered figure, tipping it into the well. He listened for the bone-crunching sound of it hitting the ground below.

“I picked you up a kid from the truck stop. Dopey thing got right in the car, without question.”

“Other people’s kids are so dumb, not like my special boy. Go, have fun on your date.”

“I will mom, I’ll bring you some left overs tomorrow.” Mika said. “Love you!”

“Love you too, honey.”


	3. Cellular

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living in a small town can be a drag but when a new cellular tower is erected in the sleepy town of Rockford Falls, it brings a whole slew of new problems.

Life in a small town is rough. There are no theaters, not fun things to do in the off season. Boredom is a medical condition and it can be fatal.

Everything seemed to turn around when the town council had a cellular tower installed. Imagine, going from landlines and Ethernet to WiFi and Hot Spots whenever they’re wanted. For the people of Rockford Falls, it was like a dream come true.

That was, until about a month ago. That’s when the first disappearances started. Cindy Moore, a freshman at high school, went missing out by the interstate. They tracked her phone, found it lying in the gravel. It still worked, but barely. It looked as if it had been crushed by something.

Dougie Farns was the next to go missing, a middle schooler with the greatest comic book collection ever. He was in mid conversation with a seller in Dallas, trying to nab a rare Batman issue. The man on the phone said he heard the boy screaming, trying to get away. Then there was a shrill screech and the phone went dead. His parents still haven’t returned to Rockford Falls.

There’s been so many lost to this new wave of kidnappings, to be fair, not all of them were kids. Marcy from the gas station went missing, while she was out walking her dog. Darrel Minsc, from the hardware store, disappeared while coming home from the bar. All they found of him was a boot and his phone.

The Sheriff department tried blaming wanderers and vagabonds; passersby’s nabbing people as they went through town. They issued a 9 PM curfew for everyone to be inside.

The Sheriff was the next to go missing, up there by old Whitherford home; they only found his pistol and his flashlight.

At final count, twenty-four people in a month went missing, the biggest epidemic of disappearances all over the country. Rockford Falls even made the news, saying folks should avoid traveling through the mountains near there, until this problem was resolved.

After the drop in traffic coming through, the disappearances didn’t stop. There was only one culprit left causing all the problems. Wild animals must have gotten desperate and decided a human meal might be worth the risk.

Deputy Patrick Wilson, Alex Wheeler, the mechanic, Miranda Marx, grocery clerk, Ty Farrel, high school coach, and Dennis Green, car salesman, decided to put together a posse and marched into those woods, armed to the teeth, determined to not come out until the problem had been dealt with.

Strange tracks ran this way and that, through the underbrush, and along the riverbed. Whatever these creatures were, there were a lot of them. They left an extensive amount of animal corpses lying in their wake. Ty wasn’t an expert, but he was an avid hunter. He could tell, by the marks left on some of the corpses, they were dealing with something large, roughly human sized with long claws like steak knives. The bite marks had a good three inches between the incisors.

Patrick began to lose his nerve. Miranda reminded him, going back was just as dangerous as pushing on. They were in the shit and dealing with this problem was the only way to pull them out of it now.

It wasn’t much of a pep talk but it worked. They pressed on, following the increasing number of tracks leading up into the mountains. The further they went the closer they got to the cellular tower.

Even in summer, the higher up in the mountains you go, the cooler it gets. Each of them regretted not bringing something warmer to wear. If whatever was out here wasn’t going to get them, hypothermia might. It was, of course, a joke, but no one was in a laughing mood.

There was a low buzzing noise coming from overhead, the closer they got to the summit. Ty remarked that it was coming from the electric wires overhead. They transferred power to the cellular tower. Instinctively, they started following the sound. That’s where the tracks seemed to be leading and that’s where they would find what they were looking for.

Beast tracks were many, trampling the dirt. It was impossible to tell just how many there were. That wasn’t even the strangest of things. There were abandoned vehicles, belonging to different providers, parked around the base of the tower. Stacks of construction materials remained untouched. Tools and other machinery sat there, unmoved. They’d been there so long that the weather had already started taking their toll.

At the base of the four-legged tower, was a large mound, nearly four feet tall and opened into a hole, seven feet in diameter, like a giant ant hill.

It was Alex’s turn to urge they head back now, damn the chances, and damn the town. It was time to abandon ship before the rats devoured them. Miranda wouldn’t go for that, though. She wanted to see what was in the holes.

What she found was a nightmare. Hundreds of bones picked clean. Scraps of clothing torn and soaked with blood. There were several pairs of shoes, backpacks, ball caps, glasses, and anything else, the disappearing victims, may have had in their possession; all for except the cell phones.

Miranda slipped down the slope and started to say something, if Ty hadn’t caught her and covered her mouth. The fear in his eyes said it all. They needed to leave now. They had to let the towns people know, or none of them would make it out alive.

That’s when they heard it, the soft buzzing of an outgoing call.

Everyone turned and looked at Patrick. The dull glow from his phone’s screen lit his terror-filled face. There was an audible click on the other end.

“911, how may I assist you?”

Patrick couldn’t answer, he was frozen in fear. The others turned, following his gaze to see the thousands of twinkling yellow eyes peering at them from the dark. Then came the horrible screeches.


	4. Shadow Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly quickly learned that sometimes the things that go bump in the night, aren't always the boogieman.

There was that scratching again. It happened the same time every night and every night Molly lay awake listening to it. It had started when they first moved in a few months ago. Shortly after she heard it, a shadow would cross her door.

It wasn’t her dad; she could hear him snoring next door. It shouldn’t be her mom; she was in New York on a business trip. It couldn’t be her big sister; she’d disappeared a month ago. Maybe it was Jonas, that big dumb cat, was probably getting into the trash again. Nah, it wasn’t that, she knew all too well who it was, the Shadow Man.

‘Brains are stupid, honey; they’ll stop at nothing to turn that bump in the night into a slobbering boogieman’, that’s what her dad told her almost every night since they moved it. No matter what, though, it happened the same way every night; she’d see the Shadow Man, scream for help, and he’d disappear. Her dad would run into the room and nothing. Then he’d get grumpy with her for waking him up.

Not this time, though.

Molly pulled the blankets off, slipped out of bed, and set to investigate this noise. She took her Spongebob camera from her desk on her way to the door. Her knees trembled, her heart raced with each step she took.

Slowly, she peeked out her door. The moonlight cut shafts of pale light through the open doors along the hallway. It made it appear impossibly long. To her relief, nothing waited for her. If it was the Shadow Man, he hadn’t come yet.

Molly gave a quick look across the hall, Suzy door was closed, and locked, she imagined. It had been that way since she’d gone.

The bathroom to her immediate right of her door was dark, making it hard to see inside. If the Shadow Man was in there, he’d be all over her right now, sucking out her soul or something. It wasn’t a comforting thought, but at least she knew he wasn’t there.

Down the hall, Molly crept. The door to her left opened into her parent’s room. Her father slept. The door across was the crafting room, there was no sign of the Shadow Man in there either. He must be downstairs, Molly pressed on to the top of the stairs.

She could almost see the entire living room through the banister. There was still no sign of the – a creak came from behind. The loose board, outside her parents room; she’d learned to avoid it long ago but the Shadow Man must not have known about it.

Molly’s heart drummed in her chest. Her knees threatened to give out, causing her to tumble down the stairs. This was her only shot at this. Turn, snap the photo, and scream; it was a simple plan but needed to be carried out perfectly.

The floorboards shifted behind her. He was so close, she could smell him. It was noxious, nauseating, like old chicken left in the bottom of the trashcan for too long. Molly felt bile rise up in the back of her throat as the smell grew closer. She imagined him leaning down, ready to snatch her up, maybe even eat her.

Molly screamed as the image felt almost too real. The plan, she was doing it all wrong. She turned and snapped the picture.

The Shadow Man let out a gravelly gasp, flailing backwards at the flash. The next thing Molly knew, she was tumbling down the stairs, head over heels, until she lay flat out at the bottom.

It hurt, she hurt. Her ears were ringing and the world seemed to be fading in and out. The last thing she saw was the Shadow Man attacking her father as they wrestled at the top of the stairs.

Molly tried to scream, she tried to reach out to him, but the creeping darkness took her.

***

The cops arrived on the scene shortly after. Apparently the neighbor called, when he heard Molly’s scream. Her father had the Shadow Man pinned on the wreckage of their kitchen table. An EMT went to work on Molly immediately. Nothing serious, she’d cracked her head on the floor but there wasn’t any permanent damage. Her father suffered several bite marks on his arms but nothing beyond that. Molly was rushed to the hospital while her father refused to leave until he got to the bottom what was going on.

“Does the name Paul Danvers mean anything to you?” Officer White asked.

Her dad pulled at his stubbly chin, thinking. “He was the guy that owned the house before us.”

“Yeah, that’s right, apparently he never left.”

White gestured towards the kitchen and her dad followed. Inside, several cops meandered, checking for this and that. There was a body bag lying on the floor in front of the refrigerator near the pantry. Several other marked black sacks were piled near it. There was a smell of rotten meat and cheese heavy in the room.

“You see, Paul’s been living in a hidden room inside the pantry.”

“This has to be a-”

“I wouldn’t go any further, sir, there are things in there you don’t wanna see.” White insisted.

Her dad went anyway. Officer White was right, his regret was almost immediate. Food wrappers and cans, they thought had gone missing, littered the floor around an old stained mattress. The old office lamp sat on the floor near some of the books he thought lost. There were wads of used toilet paper strewn about. Her dad’s blood ran cold, when he saw the blood crusted hammer that went missing from his garage, several weeks ago.

The thing that haunted him the most, were the thousands of polaroids of his two daughters, pinned to the walls.

He rushed out, pitched over, sick. That’s when he took notice of the body bag. He wanted to ask but something already told him who was in there. Suzy didn’t go missing, the Shadow Man got her.


	5. The Lump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrea learns a very valuable lesson about self-care coming before her career.

It was hanging from the ceiling, right above her, whatever it was. Andrea watched it crawl very slowly from the corner of the room to right above her.

Was it a spider? If so, it was very big, about the size of a quarter. Could it be a black widow? Nah, she’d seen those when she lived in Indiana, this was something denser.

Andrea glanced at the clock for a second; quarter to one and here she is playing nature documentary with – where did it go? The thing was gone, just like that.

At first, she wanted to panic, but she was a confident woman in her late twenties, to act that way over a bug was silly. Maybe it wasn’t a crawler at all, her rational mind took over. It was probably a flyer. A fat old horsefly, hell bent on torturing her before bedtime.

That’s when she felt something on her cheek. Andrea jolted and felt a painful sting ripple through her face. It was followed by a hard slap, a defense mechanism against her attacker. She got it though, decimated it.

A weight dropped into her stomach. She could feel pieces of the things clinging to her face and hand.

As carefully as she could, she rolled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom. As she feared, it looked awful. Milky pus streaked with red all along her cheek; chunks of black carapace peppered throughout.

Andrea washed her face. The spot on her cheek hurt to touch but she couldn’t tell if it was from the bite or the slap. The whole area was red and a bit swollen. She could actually see a pair of holes from where the fangs went in. An inch higher and it would have been in her eye.

Nothing could be done about it tonight. She had a meeting tomorrow and hoped the swelling would go down in the night.

It didn’t.

It was the first thing she noticed, when she went to the bathroom to get ready for work. There was a lump the size of a marble on her cheek. It was warm, taut, and stung when she touched it.

“Should probably get someone to look at this,” She said. “But later, I can’t be late for work.”

A light dusting of makeup did little to hide the lump, but nothing else could be done about it. Begrudgingly, she went to work.

All through work, people gawked. During the meeting, people looked more at that lump than her presentation. Everywhere she went; all eyes were on the lump.

Andrea was a patient person. She knew that it looked bad, but could these people let it go for five minutes? It was Sanders that finally got to her. The little coffee heel, hired on because his dad was in management had come to take her afternoon coffee order. His eyes wide, locked right on it. His slow drawl is what set her off.

“Sugar ma’am, one lump err-”

“Goddammit, Sanders, I know I have a lump on my face. I got bit by something last night. I was planning on going to the ER tomorrow.”

“I think you should go, like now.”

“What?”

The look on his face spoke volumes. In a huff, Andrea got up and hurried to the ladies’ room for a better look.

Andrea screamed.

She couldn’t help herself. The lump had almost doubled in size. The skin had grown so taut with pus that it was translucent. There was a small black fleck floating in the milky muck.

“What the f-”

The door burst opened, her boss, Lonnie stormed in, alarmed.

“I heard a scream, are you – Christ on a crutch, that thing on your face?”

“I know; I got bit by something last night.”

“Something?”

“Yeah, something, a spider, a fly, I don’t fucking know what.” Andrea snapped.

“And you didn’t think to go to the doctor?” Lonnie rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t wanna miss the meeting.”

“Screw the meeting, Andrea, there will always be more meetings. Right now, you need to get that thing looked at.”

“But I-”

“So help me, I will suspend you and have your removed from the premises for the day if you do not go get that thing looked at.”

Lonnie was firm but fair and Andrea knew she couldn’t win this argument. After collecting her purse, she was in a cab on her way to the hospital.

Three hours in the waiting room was enough to drive anyone to an early grave. When she was finally called, she almost trampled the nurse on her way to the check-in area. The nurse did the weight, temp, and blood pressure check before leaving her to wait in one of the small rooms.

Another hour passed and she was starting to feel the heat of the lump radiating through her face. It must have always been there, but this was the first time she’d settle down enough to pay attention to it.

The lump felt as if it was throbbing, no doubt from the fever. She was sweating too, her stomach churning and bubbling. It was nausea but it wasn’t the other thing either. Whatever bit her had done a number on her.

A wave of relief washed over her as the doctor came in.

“Hello, my name is doctor – sweet Jesus.” He stumbled back.

“I know it looks bad-”

“That’s an understatement. This is the twentieth case of this I’ve seen today and it’s never looked this bad.”

“What do you mean?”

He pulled a mirror, on a stand, over and turned the lights on. The white hot flash blinded her for a second. Once her vision cleared, she saw it.

The lump had tripled its size again. It easily covered most of her cheek now. The black dot, floating in the mucus, had grown to the size of a quarter, and she could make out all its little legs as it started burrowing its way out.


	6. Blind Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes getting back on that horse on after a terrible breakup can be hard, but sometime it's a necessary trade off.

The box was getting heavier. The more Sandra moved around the house, adding memories bit by bit. Only one memory remained, the photo of Mark sitting on her nightstand. She snatched it up and dropped it in the box with the rest of their broken marriage.

It had been six months since the papers were signed, that’s all she allotted herself for time to get over him. Last night, she took her first steps by setting up a profile on the Lover’s Leap app. Now she depositing the remains of her lying, cheating husband in the waste receptacle where he belonged.

After a drink, Sandra decided to take a shower. Right as she was getting out she got her first ding. Wrapped in a towel, she retrieved her phone.

A message bubble informed her that John gave her a ding. Just John, no last names allowed on a blind date app, not that it mattered, the bio was where all the juicy bits were.

John was attractive, with his dark skin and wide earnest smile made her swoon. He was over six feet and physically fit. His relationship goals stated, he was just looking for someone to help him get over a broken heart.

If there’s one thing she knew, it was getting over a broken heart. Play it cool, she started typing, ‘Are you new to this?’ and hit enter. Even as the message sent, she rolled her eyes at how smooth she was.

There was another blip and they started talking. Everything seemed to fall into place and they were getting along perfectly. The one thing they both agreed on was to take it slow.

Slow was an understatement.

Sandra and John talked through text for nearly two weeks, telling each other everything. It seemed like they’d known each other for years. Sandra finally built up the courage to ask him out this Friday.

John said yes, he’d been planning to ask her to this Seafood joint, down by the docks. He sent over the address and they agreed to meet at eight. Destiny was in full swing.

That Friday, the cab pulled up at the curb, she paid the man and climbed out of the car. It drove away the second she stepped up onto the sidewalk.

Sandra hardly noticed as she was preoccupied with adjusting her dress. A quick check of her phone, confirmed that she was ten minutes early. It would give her time to do some pre-date jitters breathing exercises.

While trying to calm herself, she took in her surroundings. This wasn’t any downtown district she’d ever been too. It looked more like a freighter shipping yard than a restaurant. Had she gotten the address wrong? To make matters worse, it was eerily quiet and the closest buildings were half a mile away, at least. She didn’t like the prospect of walking that far in heels.

Great, no cell service; she couldn’t even get her messages to load. She’d wait another few minutes before walking around, trying to find enough bars to send him a message.

Sandra felt incredibly stupid for getting lost and missing her first date with a guy she was crazy about. Maybe he’d take pity on her because she lost in the middle of nowhere all night.

Lost in the middle of nowhere, the thought just dawned on her. If anything were to happen to her, no one would know she was here. The warehouse and shipping yard were closed and her cell was out of service. She started trembling at the thought.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a figure beneath the street lamp nearby. Before she could stop herself, she waved. He slid out from beneath the light and started towards her.

It must be John, he’d take her by the hand to the back of one of these buildings and that’s where the restaurant would be or maybe that’s where he’d have his way with her and dump her body in the pier.

The thought was sharp enough to cut her. Why would her brain manifest that, because that’s why he invited her out her to the middle of nowhere?

That’s when her eyes locked on the figure; he was running at her now; his face covered by a mask. Sandra’s heart jumped to her throat and she took off running the other way. Her heels flew off giving her more freedom to escape.

There were small rocks on the ground, they bit into her as she ran, keeping to the shadow of the large warehouse. She cut the corner of the building close. It bit her shoulder raw. When she looked at it, the scrap was pooling blood. It hurt but not as bad as what John had planned.

Sandra’s world came to a sudden stop, so hard it rattled her teeth. She fell flat on her back on the cold sidewalk.

Shit, he cut around the other way, I’m dead.

Sandra flailed around. The pounding of her heart made her sore jaw to throb so hard she couldn’t scream. Then she saw the shadowy figure behind her turn and run the other way.

“You better run, you mother fucker!” A familiar voice followed him.

Mark? Sure enough, her ex was standing over her. He reached down and took her arm, helping her up.

“Are you alright?”

Sandra told him everything that happened, her voice on the verge of breaking down the whole time.

“Well, you’re alright now.” Mark gave her a reassuring smile. “You gotta be careful with those dating apps, a bunch of psychos on there.”

“Yeah, well I think I’m done with all that for now.”

Sandra took out her phone and pulled up John’s profile, swiping to remove him from her favorites. A green confirm button prompted her and she pushed it without hesitation.

A decisive ding came from close by, from Mark’s pocket and his smile faded. “Mark?”

“Aw, Sandy, you’re always one step ahead of me. I honestly thought I could get the jump on you this time. Oh well.”

When Sandra tried to scream, Mark’s hand closed around her throat. The crack of her skull against the hard bricks, made it so nothing was really a problem for her anymore.


	7. Confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes getting the news that someone's dead is the worst that you can get, but Steven soon learns that some news is more dire.

In the movies, rain always seems to come down hard enough to convey the scene as tragic, as if to say, ‘hey, it’s time to be sad’. Real life isn’t that way; I find it odd that the prettiest day of the year is the day I’m being buried on.

It’s a good turn out, I guess. I mean, Cathy, my wife is here, our son James, and of course my mom and Stepdad too. I’m surprised to see David, from Acquisitions, here, I thought he hated me. Susan, my ‘day to day associate’, is here. That’s just a fancy way of saying secretary nowadays. Whatever makes them feel good about the job, I always say – well, used to say.

Oh, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Steven and I was murdered. It wasn’t anything grim-dark like the movies, no, I was in my garage lifting weights and someone chopped me in the back of the head with a crowbar.

The first few days after were a whirlwind. Figuring out that you’re a ghost is the worst. No coffee, no food, you can’t even comfort your crying son.

Thanks god, you made life utterly impossible to live, you’d figure the transition period to the afterlife would be easier.

I know you’re thinking, if I’m good there’s a bright light leading me to heaven or some boney dude on a boat ready to whisk me to hell if I’m bad, nope, it’s all bullshit. I’ve not seen either since I got here. To be frank, where are all the other ghosts? It’s weird; if this is the afterlife, murder me again please.

The biggest thing about being dead, is it’s so goddamned dull. I just follow my family around, spying on what they’re doing.

Little James spends a bunch of time in his room, hugging his teddy bear, watching cartoons, whatever makes him feel better.

My Cathy, though, she’s so strong and stoic. That’s one of the reasons I married her, well that and her rocking body and all of her daddy’s money. I don’t want you to think I’m shallow and only like her for what she brings to the table, no, she also a devote believer, like, the go to church every Sunday type. I’m not complaining; it’s given her a forgiving heart.

One time, after James was born and we were both agitated, I had a slip and cheated on her with a girl from work. It wasn’t anything big, we were making out in the garage and I had my hand down her pants when Cathy caught us.

I did everything I could to make amends. To remove the temptation, I got that girl fired from work. We did couples counseling. I even signed a post-nup agreement, saying she got everything if I did it again. It was rough but in the end she forgave me. I never cheated again and we got better, stronger even.

Oh, they’re putting me in the ground now, goodbye body. You were a good body as far as I’m concerned; I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you.

If this were a movie, this is the time when everyone walks around and chats about me and the legacy I’ve left behind. I can’t wait to hear it.

Wait a minute, why are you on your phone, Cathy? What’s going on here and who is George? Why does he need to see you, right now?

“Mom, can you take care of James for a bit, I just need a moment to-”

“Oh sure, Cathy, anything you need to get your head right.”

I’m gonna get to the bottom of this. Where are we going, Cathy? This George guy better not be a lover, so help me, I will fucking haunt him.

What are we going to the church? Oh wait. Is George the priest guy? He’s he just calling to check on you. That’s sweet of him.

This is Saint Jacqueline Presbyterian; this is where Cathy goes every Sunday. It’s actually a really nice Church. Too bad I don’t believe in that kind of stuff, rightly so because there doesn’t seem to be a heaven or hell.

Wait; who is this guy, he’s not a priest and why are you guys hugging?

“Cathy.”

“What is it?”

“Come into the confessional.”

Don’t mind if I do, Georgie!

I hate confessionals. They’re always hot, stuffy, smelling like wood cleaner, and oppression. I guess that’s the point, they want you dizzy from the chemical fumes, dying from the heat, and subservient so you’ll give up your deepest secrets.

“I feel like I should ask you your sins.”

“I don’t think we have enough time for that, George.”

Don’t laugh at that, that’s not even – oh my god, are you fucking George?

“So, there have been some questions going around the Coroner’s office.”

“What kind of questions – oh my god, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing I can fix, I just need some time. If anyone from the coroner’s office calls, tell them you didn’t want to know the results of the autopsy because it might affect the memory of your departed husband.”

“Will that work?”

“It should. It’s not like they’re going to dig up the body and find that he wasn’t exactly dead when they buried him.”

What is he talking about, Cathy? Is my body-

“I wish you could have disposed of him properly.”

“I tried but that doctor wanted too money to look the other way.”

What the fuck is going on?

“I know, I just-”

“Don’t worry; he won’t be alive for much longer, there’s no air down there. I’m sure he’s already passed on by now.”

“Then it’s only a matter of time before we can be together?”

“I love you, Cathy.”

Wha – you buried me alive? You cold hearted bitch, I hope you roast in hell!

**Not before you do, Mr. Steven James Morgan.**

Who said that?

Ah, shit, at least I know one thing for sure, there’s no boney dude driving the boat.


	8. The Legend of Old DeWinter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The legendary bone-chilling adventure of DeWinter, everyone loves an old Folk Tale right?

Sometimes stories are legends; other times their just tales,

Some are told of fun and others to inspire us not to fail,

This is a story of one man’s struggle on his chosen trail.

When I was a boy, my pappy found me picking on a boy so weak,

He hollered, “Boy what’s wrong with you, for the sake of Pete?”

He jerked me up by my collar, sharp, until our eyes did meet.

There was no time for an explanation, my hind-end he did blister,

I think he might have been crying, while he muttered and he whispered,

“Fool boy is going to bring down the wrath of Jesse DeWinter,”

I sniffled hard, wiped my eyes, and sat on crooked cheek,

“Pappy, what are you saying?” I asked; my voice all meek.

“Sit there, boy, and listen well. I’ll tell you a tale, so bleak.” 

Farm life is hard especially when the law won’t stop coming around,

Jesse DeWinter and his family struggled to bring life from their ground,

When there were no crops to have, Jesse was forced to hunt flesh by the pound.

Coins in his pocket, iron in his hand, DeWinter is coming to take your life,

Bounty hunting is bloody work, leaves a soul teetering on the edge of a knife,

Outlaws by the score, money for their souls, none were brought back alive.

Jesse DeWinter’s family was fed; they were happy and fair,

Until the lawmen came around and took more than their share.

Not again, Jesse did vow, their suffering was more than he could bear.

With a shot to the chest, one in the eye, and for the lawyer, one in the ear,

Bounty hunting is hard but when you’re hunting lawman there’s nothing to fear,

He’d make them suffer; he’d make them pay, for harming what he held dear.

It didn’t take long; a posse of folks did gather and rode out hard,

To Jesse DeWinters’, where they lay siege to him and his farm,

He was caught and forced to watch as his family was burned in the barn.

He could hear them screaming, crying, and pleading,

It was the type of thing that sets rational thoughts fleeing,

It caused Jesse DeWinter’s heart to go cold, hard, and unfeeling.

The trial was short and no one wanted to hear what he had to say,

He was rushed to the gallows to carry out his sentence, right away,

His final words to the lawman, at the lever, was, “You will pay,”

The lawman smiled and pulled the lever hard,

The wooden bottom dropped out and he fell sharp,

His neck snapped, the rope had done its part,

Rope was taut around his neck as he swayed to and fro,

Jesse DeWinter, hang ‘em high, his soul was sent to roam,

His deeds were ill, for all the right reasons to save his family’s home.

They cut him down, tossed him out to be carted,

Lawman said. “DeWinter’s fetid soul has departed,”

“Ride him out and bury him in a grave unmarked.”

Lawmen, lawyers, and politicians give their backs a firm patting,

Beer was shared, cigars were smoked, and town folks were amassing,

All too happy to celebrate poor Jesse DeWinter passing.

The wind blew cold, the fire light flickered, a voice did bluster,

“Bathe yourselves in sin, sing and dance in luster,”

“Know that DeWinter is coming and hell that he mustered.”

Lightening crashed, the rain came down, a ghostly form did hover.

The party stopped, the drinks ran dry, and the celebration was over,

Folks screamed, toppled, and ran for fear of him coming closer.

“Run if you want, hide if you must, but you’ll never get away,”

“Pray to your gods; beg of all your demons; but it won’t sway,”

“DeWinter is coming, a pound of your flesh is what you will pay.”

Away they ran, fast as they could, home to lock their doors and latch their shutters,

They were racked with fear, afraid to look, his lingering chill forcing them to shudder,

Their heart in their chest drummed out a dirge, while desperate prayers they muttered.

They heard the wind howl, the clop of his boots with the jangle of his spurs,

He was through the door, onto the stairs; they could hear his haunting words,

“Dark is your heart, black in your soul, I’ll make you wish you never were.”

A hollow shot rang out from DeWinter’s gun, ringing a Lawman’s bell,

Sending his soul tumbling down through the earth into an endless well,

A greedy skeleton man, in a cloak and hood, snatched him for the ride to hell.

Lawmen and town folk, who took more than they deserved,

Turned a blind eye, plugged up their ears, leaving his pleas unheard,

Jesse DeWinter visited them all and gave them what they earned.

When all was said and done, scores of bounties he claimed,

In the deal he’d struck, when lawmen sent him to sway,

All of them souls who’d done him wrong, was a fine price to pay.

Grim sneered. “You cannot go beyond, for you’ve been damned eternally,”

DeWinter tipped his hat, “That’s fine with me, I just want them back, you see.”

It was his family he wanted returned, so they may be together for eternity.

Grim Reaper was all too pleased to pay this fee,

And he gave Jesse DeWinter back his family,

So that they may haunt those who prey on the weak.

So if you think hurting folks is all in good fun,

I suggest you and yours better start to run,

Because the DeWinter and his family will come.

From that day on, when I felt the devil’s words,

Pushing and urging me to do ill-will or worse,

I can hear the jangle of them old rusty spurs.

And I know DeWinter is coming.


	9. One Bullet Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a zombie apocalypse, every bullet counts because you never know when things might get to the point, you'll have to use it on yourself.

Hi, my name is Alicia; I’m one of the few remaining survivors at the end of the world.

Those things below, those are zombies. We call them Biters just to be cool. If I go down there, they’ll tear me apart or worse, I’ll become one of them. Neither prospect is good which is why I’m just chilling on these rafters until help comes or I lose my nerve and do myself in.

How did I get here? Well, I tell you, it’s not like I have anywhere to be, so listen up.

Three months ago the world changed. It started with a flu that spread across the country. ‘Remember to get your flu shots’, they reminded us. All the pharmacies offered the shots for five dollars off, as long as you were a member of course. Shit, I fell for it too.

Not even a week later, there were reports of a few sporadic cases of people being attacked by gangs in the street. All the attacks were fatal and seemed like some form of cannibalistic ritual. The victims seemed to be eaten after they were killed. I mean, who does that?

The answer wasn’t one we expected or wanted. It was worse than anything we could have imagined. Bite victims, the ones who died got up and became violent, attacking those who hadn’t been bit yet. The virus spread at an alarming rate.

Three weeks in and the military mobilized. They nuked New York, Detroit, and Los Angeles in a desperate attempt to alleviate the largest populated areas. Washington tried to corral the “normal” folks towards the middle of the country, away from the bigger cities where they’d be safe.

The president wanted to build a wall to keep the biter’s out. Great idea, everyone was onboard for it, until the government contractor was bitten and all soon were the rest of crew.

Two weeks after that, D.C. fell. House of Representatives locked themselves inside for safety. They should have been pickier about who they let in. The guy they send on coffee runs wasn’t so willing to admit he’d been bitten. I doubt he was upset about sharing the love with those dick bags.

Senate fell next, a much smaller transition if you ask me. The Speaker of the House read prayers and psalms as they all shared their last drink of spiked punch. Strychnine is a hell of a chaser but it doesn’t quite prevent zombieism.

Then the president went missing. Some believe he went into an underground bunker, but no one knows for sure. Not that it matters, he’s old and fat and if he comes above ground for anything, he’ll be the perfect meal for one of those assholes.

That’s when humanity turned to a free for all. I’m actually surprised we lasted as long as we did, to be honest.

I broke off towards North Dakota with a group of families. The roads were thick with Biters and we just couldn’t get the kids to move fast enough through the wilderness. When we did manage to find safety in a town, then other survivors became a problem.

By the time we made it to where we were going, it was just me, Samantha, Jordan, and his two children.

Scared, huddled together in some old people’s house, we had no food to speak of and even less to defend ourselves with. I wanted to die but for some crazy reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger. I don’t know if it was because I felt like had to get right with god over all the shitty things I’ve done since this whole thing started. Maybe there was a part of me that still thought I could do some good in this world. So I carried, we all did.

About two weeks ago, we got our big break. A gang of bikers were hold up at the bar down the street. Jordan and I snuck in and took care of them while they were asleep. I know it’s a terrible thing to do, but you don’t know these people like I do. Jordan and I had a run in with them a few nights ago. They kidnapped little Lauren and did unspeakable things to her. Monsters that could do that to an eleven-year-old, deserves to die like pigs.

With them gone, we had rides, guns, food, water, you name it. We were heading further north, as far as we could go. The Biter can’t walk around in the frozen north, that’s a fact.

That brings us to right now and how I got into this mess. We were scavenging for fuel for the motorcycles. I got separated from Jordan, Samantha, and Trey by a pack of those Biters. They chased me in here, where I found a huge nest of them lying in wait. I managed to climb up here before any of them got me.

Now, herein lies the problem, I can’t get out and Jordan knows to take off with others if I don’t return by dawn which is fast approaching. I have three options, bite the bullet figuratively and let the Biters have me; bite the bullet literately and shoot myself in the head; or starve to death. None of these options have a happy ending but nothing’s been really happy about this situation since it started.

I guess there’s only one choice to make.

Shit, I dropped my gun and it went off. There goes my one last bullet. I can’t catch a break. Starve it is I guess.

Is that someone outside the window?

“Alicia is that you? This ain’t the time to be hanging out, girl.”

“Jordan?”

“Yeah, I’ve been looking for you for an hour now. That was smart of you to shoot your gun, lead me right to you.”

“Come on, you can climb across the rafters, drop down on that shelf and boogie through the window. Let’s go.”

Sometimes you just get lucky, I guess.


	10. Neighborhood Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doug recently lost his wife and is having a hard time adjusting. It's a good thing the Neighborhood Watch is there to keep an eye on him.

Doug walked out his front door, smiling like he always did. He waved to those in their front yards or those jogging by, slinging a few greetings and blowing a kiss to old Martha across the street. She caught it and returned it in kind. Then he’d get into his Volvo and drive off to work.

He’d always been that way since he moved to this street with his wife Mary, five years ago. Mary was a lovely lady, though a little bit introverted. She’d come outside so rarely and only for a few minutes when she did. Beyond that, they’re nearly a perfect family.

Until one day, Doug ran out of his house screaming for help. Bernie, the neighbor on his right, called 911, while Michael and his wife, Susan, hurried across the street to help him.

Doug bawled to the point he was inconsolable. Officer Mitchell, from down the street, went into the house to investigate. He came out, his hat over his heart.

Mary lay dead on the kitchen floor; she’d broken a glass on the linoleum and cut both wrists by mistake. That’s what the rest of the neighborhood agreed had happened.

No one could really make assumptions on what Mary was going through, even Doug didn’t fully know.

Being good neighbors, they brought over DVDs, casseroles, and well wishes. Doug seemed alright, albeit a bit out of sorts. Everyone knew better than to ask why there was a large hole cut out of the linoleum in the kitchen.

Life went on for Doug, though he was a very changed man now. No good mornings, blown kisses, or waves. He’d come out, get into his Volvo, and go to work. He’d come home, go inside, and nobody saw him until the next morning.

Eventually, Doug stopped going to work. No one in the neighborhood knew if he got fired or if he made an agreement to work from home until his mourning passed.

It’s sad to see a light extinguished in this world. It was like a dark cloud covered the entire block and everyone felt it.

To help out and maybe make a connection with Doug, Michael came over and mowed the lawn. Doug didn’t even notice or was just too uncomfortable to say something about it.

Martha baked him a cake and ended up leaving it on the porch because he didn’t come to the door. The next morning, the cake was still there, untouched.

Two months passed since Mary left and Doug hadn’t showed any sign of getting better. Until one night, while Susan was out walking the dog; she saw Doug come out of his house and get into his Volvo. It was the first time anyone had seen him leave his house in weeks. He must have gotten himself a night job or something. Needless to say, Susan was excited to tell the others.

Doug’s car was back in his driveway by morning. Everyone wondered if Susan had been mistaken. Even Susan was starting to doubt herself; maybe she’d imagined it.

She hadn’t, Doug came out his front door and picked up the paper. He saw everyone gathered in Michael’s yard and then he smiled and waved before going back inside.

Everyone was so taken aback that they didn’t know how to respond. Was Doug back? They were going to need to remain calm and not jump to conclusion.

It was true, the real Doug was back. Every morning, he’d come outside, wave at the joggers going by and to the folks in their front yards. He’d blow a kiss to Martha before going back inside.

This called for a celebration, a block party potluck. It was Michael’s suggested. Maybe they could hold it this weekend. Susan got the honor of inviting Doug.

She went up on the porch and didn’t even get to knock before Doug came out to meet her. He still wore his smile. Up close he looked tired, his eyes were red, and he smelled as though he’d not showered in a bit.

“Hey Doug?”

“Susan, this is a pleasant surprise. How can I help you?”

“We’re throwing a block party on Saturday and we were hoping you could come.”

“Oh, that’ll be amazing. Yeah, should I bring anything?”

“Nope, just yourself, we have the rest covered.”

Doug chuckled. “It sounds like fun. What time on Saturday?”

“We were thinking noon to three?”

“Sounds good.” Doug said sidled back inside. “Mary and I’ll see you on Saturday then. Take care, Susan. It was nice seeing you.”

When he closed the door, Susan’s smile faded. What did he mean ‘Mary and I’ll see you’. She hurried back to tell the others.

Martha explained. “It’s probably some kind of adjustment thing, a stuffed animal that he calls Mary to help him get over the loss. At any rate, no one say anything about it.”

Everyone agreed to that.

One o’clock on Saturday rolled around and there was no sign of Doug or “Mary”. Obviously, Doug had a lot on his mind and may have forgotten so Susan and Michael decided to pay him a visit.

They crossed the street, knocking lightly on the door but there was no answer. They’d waited a few minutes, overcome with worry that Doug may have had an “accident” too. Against Michael’s better judgement, they went inside.

They could hear Doug upstairs.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll make an appearance. If you’re not having fun after the first half hour, I’ll bring you home.”

“No honey, no one’s going to judge you.”

“I love you too sweetie.”

Michael reached the top of the stairs, rounding the corner into the bedroom. His heart nearly stopped at what he saw.

***

The house burned easily enough, it was a shame Doug had to be inside when it went up. Michael was always careful to make it look like an accident and Susan was always good at sobbing while being questioned.

Martha scoffed. “I can’t believe he dug her up and bought her home. Like that’s an acceptable thing to do.”

“I betcha he was kanoodling her too.” Bernie sneered.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Michael shivered, wishing he could forget the fetid kiss he saw.

“Still, he’s better than the last guy that lived here.” Martha added.

“I agree; homosexuality has no business in this neighborhood.” Bernie snapped.

“Maybe the next house they build won’t attract so many freaks.” Michael added.

Susan came back sniffling. “They bought it you guys, Doug was officially suicidal and a danger to us all.”

“Alright everyone, this meeting of the Neighborhood Watch is over. Let’s have drinks at our place.”

The group followed Michael and Susan into their house where they left the smell of smoldering wood and flesh outside.


	11. Guard Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shania was settling for another boring night of watching over the old factory. It's a shame that Halloween isn't just any other night.

Shania walked into the office and clocked in. Office may be a strong word for it. It was mostly a reinforced glass box on a metal platform, a perfect design for a night watchman station. Someone could see almost the entire factory and the parts that couldn’t be seen had motion lights and cameras.

There was a row of lockers, two small desks, a TV for entertainment, and a coffeemaker to keep the watchmen vigilant. It was cozy enough to call it a work place without making it too comfortable.

She heard the toilet flush from the tiny personal bathroom and Willard came out from the small door, next to the row of lockers.

“I was just about to call you.”

“Sorry I’m late-”

“You’re not late, I just wanted to remind you its Halloween, so, there may be some strange happenings going on tonight. If anything happens, don’t hesitate to hit the panic button. Boss would rather deal with the cops than anything happening to you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet of him.” Shania said.

“Don’t jump to conclusion. We have a paragraph in our contracts that states the company pays for all our bills if we’re injured at work.” Willard chuckled.

“That figures.” Shania smirked. “What kind of things can I look forward too?”

“Prank calls, firecrackers going off outside, strange shapes appearing on the cameras. You know the normal adolescent shit.” Willard explained, clocking out.

“Some things never change.”

“Sure as hell don’t mean it doesn’t get old. Have a good night, Shania; call me if anything comes up.”

“I will, have a good night, old man.”

She could hear him laughing as the door closed.

Shania started her night by cleaning the office, luckily it wasn’t as bad as it usually was and either way it was a good way to pass the time.

A few chapters into her book and two cups of coffee in her belly was a perfect time to start her first patrol. The coffee was a big help, the book was not.

It was a historical book about the rise of factories throughout the east. Boring for a lot of folks but not Shania, it was full of some dark and weird stories. Factory workers forced to work until they collapsed. Some died while working, their replacements were known to kick them into the vats and just kept on working. Many of the workers were locked underground and only brought out for their shift. What kind of monsters-

Shania’s headset buzzed, it was connected to the office phone line. She pushed on the side of the earpiece.

“Hey girl, how are you, is there anything to report?” Willard’s voice soothed her.

“Nah, quiet as a-”

Something out of the corner of her eyes shifted. Shania jolted, her hand rested on the flashlight.

“What is it?”

“I thought I saw something.”

“What kind of something?”

“I dunno, I-”

Another something moved from the opposite way down the machinery avenue.

“Oh god.” Shania cried.

“I’m on my way.”

There were sounds all around her, some of it sounded like small bare feet slapping the concrete. Shania quietly backed into a small alcove between two large machines. One ear cocked to hear where they were coming from.

How many were there? She couldn’t quite tell, at least half a dozen. Something darted passed and she almost screamed.

If Willard was telling the truth, he’d get there in ten minutes. The cops would be there in six. All she had to do was hold out that long. She had to get back to the guard station and lock herself in.

Slowly, she edged out, giving each side a listen. One of the things was standing at the end of the machine row. It jittered, almost like a convulsing. It turned its head with a soft creak, a pair of glowing white eyes stared towards her.

It was impossible to tell if the thing could see in the dark, or saw her at all, but she wasn’t about to wait around. Shania ducked out and started down the other way.

A pair of glowing eyes rounded the corner in front of her. It happened so fast she collided. It was so small; she managed to send it tumbling away.

It let out a choked scream. A coppery smell, like dried blood, filled her nose. She ignored it as she broke into a full run. The creature’s desperate screams covered up her footsteps but it also worked to cover up the other’s movement as well.

Shania rounded the corner; the narrow alleyway ahead was flooded with glowing green eyes.

There was only a split second to figure out what to do. Instinctively, she flicked the switch on her flashlight, lighting up the darkness for a second. It was enough to fill the air around her with desperate screams. The eyes in front of her shifted around, confused.

They were blinded, it was her chance. Running up the stairs was so much harder on shaky legs. It was a relief to reach the catwalk. Shania already had her keys out and the door unlocked before the creatures reached the top of the stairs. She slammed the door and locked it.

The lights inside the room blocked out everything on the other side of the door. Even with the cameras, she could only make out the shadowy figures jolting and jittering beneath the lights of the exit signs.

What were they? They’re so fast and my god, those eyes.

A loud thump hit the glass door. It caused her to fall from her chair screaming. No matter how hard she tried; she couldn’t see anything beyond the glass.

Pulling her flashlight from her belt, she moved towards to the door. One by one, she saw pairs of eyes peer at her from the darkness.

An almost human hand touched the glass. It startled her enough to make her flail back and hit her head on the floor. Her vision was swimming as she managed to flick on the flashlight.

What she saw was almost like a fever dream. Dozens of pale, almost human faces glared at her. Their gaunt misshapen face, sneered with their jagged teeth. They reared away, closing their bulging frog-like eyes away from the light on their long spindly arms and legs.

Factory workers? Was her last coherent thought before passing out. 

***

“Boss wants you to sign this.”

Willard placed a paper and pen on the desk in front of her.

“What’s-”

“It’s a non-disclosure agreement, we all sign them here.” Willard said.

“But-”

“Shania, he’s offering you a fuck-ton of money and all the day-shift you want. I suggest you take them.”

Shania chewed her bottom lip. “What about those things, what are they?”

“About one more figure above yours and my pay grade, now sign it.” Willard insisted.

“This is wrong.”

“Nah, this is America, baby.” Willard sighed.

Shania nodded, picked up a pen and signed the paper. Willard was right, no matter how much she hated it.


	12. The Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being the last kid on earth would be an amazing opportunity to do everything you've ever wanted. Destin hopes he can make the best of it.

Destin limped along the road, his gold chains jingled in time with his steps. Blood seeped from the wound on his leg, staining his nice jeans. It was pooling into his new shoes. There was no doubt his arm was broken. He couldn’t even touch his hand without it hurting, which is why he left the ring on his finger. The thick purple sausage was bound to fall off at this rate.

In hindsight, taking that sports car for a high speed joyride wasn’t the best idea, he’d had today. Maybe he could find a first-aid guide online that could help him reset it. He could grab a bottle of liquor from the store, on the corner, to help numb the pain.

Looking at the remnants of his arm, he wished he could just go to the ER and have a doctor or nurse fix him up. Hell at this point, he’d take a janitor. It had been almost a full day without talking to someone and the loneliness was starting to get to him.

When he woke up this morning; his family was gone. At first, he assumed they’d gone grocery shopping without him. He called his dad’s phone and realized it was on the end table in the living room. His dad never went anywhere without his phone.

Destin checked his buddy Sammy’s house and he was gone. After a few more houses, Destin found nothing. As a last ditch effort, he called his grandmother in Indiana and nothing. Everyone was gone, even the animals.

After a good long cry, Destin pulled himself together. He was looking at this all wrong. This was a new lease on life. The whole world was his and nothing could stop him and he knew the mall was his stop.

He smashed the lower window in the door, so he could duck under and in. The alarm blared for a while but eventually stopped as if it realized that no one was coming. Destin was free to do his shopping.

New jeans, shirt, and a pair of shoes; he tried on so many different styles until he found the perfect one. The jewelry counter had some choice selections to give his outfit some pop. The rest of the stuff went right into a bag.

The game store was his next stop, after visiting the candy store for a giant bag of all his favorites. He’d dumped it into a cart; he took from the whole foods store. It didn’t take him long to amass a pile of games along with a new console.

Destin’s first thought was to drag all this stuff home but there was no point. He could set up a home right in the mall and have access to all of this stuff, daily.

Having dragged a couch from across the store, left him winded, but seeing the couch set up in front of the giant screen television and console was invigorating. Before he could get into some serious gaming, it was time to eat.

The food court was empty, but he managed to find one with a griddle and some burger ingredients. It wasn’t that much different than the fast food joint he worked at. He made himself a give cheeseburger and fries, scarfing them down before heading back to his makeshift home.

Playing video games was fun but it got boring as the rush of the shopping spree wore off. There was no difference between this and what he did on a normal Saturday; he wanted to do something wild and crazy.

Maybe he could go for a drive?

Destin had no idea that car lots keep their keys in a safe behind the counter. He also didn’t know that a pry bar could make easy work of the small lock on it. When it burst open, keys rained out all over the floor.

The decision was easy; he took the keys to a sports car. He wanted one ever since he’d seen one in a movie recently.

With no traffic on the road, he could really open it up and just go. As expected, the car was fast and smoot, but it took corners a bit clumsy. That could also be because he was inexperienced behind the wheel; he’d get better at it, but not before-

The crunch of metal, hiss of the engine was so jarring but was nothing compared to the pain of untangling his arm from the steering wheel and getting out. The walk back to the mall was going to a bitch as well.

Destin was less than a mile away and then he could lie out on the couch and rest before attempting to fix his arm. It wasn’t a good prospect but he couldn’t even think about that now. With night rapidly approaching, all he could think of was how much he didn’t want to be alone after the sun went down.

The sun sank below the horizon by the time he reached the parking lot. This was the first time, since he was a kid, that he was afraid of the dark.

Something moved behind him, he was sure of it. It sounded like nails scrambling across the pavement, but when he looked, there was nothing there. He wanted to believe it was just his imagination but it didn’t stop him from trembling.

When he reached the door, he cursed himself for not opening it. The idea of ducking through the lower window made his whole body hurt but not as bad as the glass biting through his jeans and into the meat of his knees. It crunched and chewed into the palm of his hand but it was only a little bit farther now.

Halfway in, he heard something moving through the shadows in front of him. He couldn’t make it out through his tear-filled eyes, but he heard the low growl coming closer.

A pair of red eyes appeared from the darkness as a slick, black hand touched his face. It was hot and smelled sickly sweet. It made his heart race in his chest.

Destin tried to pull away but the grip was strong and was pulling him closer. Another hand reached through behind him and gripped his back. A pair of claws tearing into him but he was too numb to scream, all he could think of was that he wanted his mommy.


	13. The Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duncan finds himself in a rough predicament, when he discovers that the prisoner he's transporting might not be a Witch at all.

Eliza knelt, her head against the iron bars. The gentle sway of the wagon tried to lull her to sleep but to no avail. Instead, she stared at the young soldier on horseback, behind the wagon. Her gaze didn’t wavier.

Duncan stared at her with the same intensity. He’d never seen a witch before, judging from all the stories, they had long raven hair, witch-fire green eyes, and skin pale as the moon. This witch was warm and tan with short brunette locks, and earthen colored eyes.

She looked nothing more than a peasant in the wrong place at the wrong time. That is where his inner conflict lay. Duncan wasn’t a witch hunter. He barely believed they existed outside of fables, yet Friar Morton was convinced she was one.

“Eliza.” She said.

“Huh?” Duncan responded, jolted from his thoughts.

“Judging by how long you’ve stared, I assume you wished my name.”

“Nay, but all the same, thank you. My name is-”

“Duncan.”

She could see he was taken aback by this.

“Not witchcraft,” She laughed. “I heard the driver call your name.”

“Ah, clever.” Duncan joined in the laugh, feeling oddly calm beneath her gaze.

“Can we stop, I have to-” She gestured downward with a flick of her head.

“Again? This will be the fourth stop in so many hours.” Duncan laughed.

“A lady doesn’t discuss powder room habits.”

“Fair enough.”

He gave her a nod and trotted forward.

“Bowman, pull aside, our quarry has to stop.”

“Oy, again? Stop giving her so much to drink, ya tit.” The man, at the reigns, grumbled.

“We may be escorting a prisoner but we are still gentleman, sir, now pull aside.”

“All right, all right, keep your cape on.”

Bowman urged the horses to pull aside the dirt road, lined with trees. Duncan slipped down from his horse to undo the lock.

“Thank you, good sir.” Eliza stated, stepping down.

Duncan waved away the pleasantry before giving her a boyish smile.

They walked a short way into the woods, where Eliza squatted down, behind some bushes, to do her business. She made sure, Duncan knew where she was.

“I would ask you to turn, but the situation makes it seem suspicious.”

Duncan rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “I wish I could but for what it’s worth, I’m not looking.”

“Such a gentleman, of that I’m grateful.”

“Tis a frightfully savage day-in-age, it takes every ounce of chivalry to make a difference, ma’am.”

“And what a difference it makes.” Eliza said.

When she was finish, Duncan helped her into the back of the wagon, locking it. She offered him a warm smile that made him blush.

Underway again, Duncan stayed close to the wagon so Eliza and he could talk. The sun setting forced them to continue by lantern light. The shadows of the trees had grown every ominous and long.

You’re not a witch?” Duncan asked finally.

“I am not.”

“Then how, pray tell, did they mark you as a witch?”

“That is a funny tale.” Eliza began. “I work at a tavern and to enhance the flavor, I’d put different herbs in the casks. One night, a man had way more than he could hand and killed a soldier in the brawl, he started. The constable investigated the casks, finding what I’d done. The murderer claimed I charmed him into violence. Now, I’m in chains, on my way to the capital for my _fair_ trial.”

“Funny stories are meant to make me laugh; now I just want to cry.” Duncan scoffed.

“It is what it is, good sir. We all perish for one reason or another. No way is more just than the next.”

“Still, this isn’t justice. When I signed on to be a soldier, I wanted to help people, not to take them to their deaths.” Duncan said indignantly.

“Young ideals are hard to let go of my friend. It’s best to treasure the time you have.”

“Friend?”

“I assumed because I could dearly use one now.”

“Friend it is then.” Duncan smiled.

“Then as my friend, do you think we could make one more stop before the sunrise?”

“Aye,” Duncan said, riding up to talk with Bowman.

Grumbling the whole way, Bowman pulled the wagon to the side of the road and Duncan escorted Eliza to the side of the road, not daring to go deeper into the forest than that. She hesitated in her business.

“Whatever happens, know that you’ve made this trip pleasant.” She whispered.

“I just wish it had a happier ending.” Duncan admitted.

“You do?” She teased. “Then keep your sword sheathed and stick close to me.”

“What?”

Duncan felt the presence before he saw it. Something large and hungry moved from the shadows of the woods to right up beside the cart. It darted out, cutting down the horses with a fatal slash, spraying the dirt with crimson.

Bowman screamed, drawing his sword.

Another shadow leapt from the trees opposite the road and silenced him.

Duncan reached for his sword but halted when he felt Eliza’s hand on his. He met her once dark gaze, surprised to see the shimmering gold staring back.

The moments passed and the forest was silent once again. Large shapes stepped into the amber light. Three beasts, more wolf than man, all with glowing yellow eyes and hulking, hunched forms.

“Werewolves?”

“They’re my sisters; they’ve come to retrieve me.”

The darkest one smiled a silvery grin. “The trail you left, Eliza, was so easy to track.”

“Ah, I get it now.” Duncan felt sheepish. “All the stops we made?”

“A lady does not discuss her powder room habits, Duncan.” Eliza said jovially.

The other figures started laughing.

“What of this one?” The silver wolf asked, gesturing to Duncan with on large hand.

“He’s a gentleman and should be treated as such.” Eliza smiled, her fangs showing clearly now.

“Very well, let us go then.” The smallest wolf growled.

“Wait,” Duncan interjected. “Will I see you again?”

Eliza hesitated for a long moment, chewing her bottom lip in contemplation.

“Melanie, mark him, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Very well,” The silver wolf shrugged. “Give me your hand, gentleman.”

Before Duncan could ask any questions, the wolf bit his hand hard. He stifled a yelp, watching blood pool from the wood with every heated throb.

Eliza tore a scrap of her dress and wrapped his hand tightly.

Their eyes met again as she spoke. “In three days’ time, I’ll come for you. In that time, severe connections, lose everything silver, and ensure that you will disappear.”

“Am I to be-”

“A gentleman,” She interrupted. “Always and forever.”

Eliza kissed his cheek before retreating into the woods with the others. With one last glance, Duncan saw her shift and sprint away, excited to see her once again, in three days.


	14. Carbon Copy Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Celi needs money badly, she agrees to take part in an experiment. The end result, a fully individualize clone of her.

Vitals looked normal. There was an odd spike in the heart rate from time to time. Dr. Altuna assured me it was normal, something brought on by REM sleep, dreams, and such.

“Dreams?” I asked.

“Why yes, Celi, it – I’m sorry, she has dreams and a consciousness. In every aspect, she’s human just born from a artificial womb.”

The concept left me gob-smacked. Not because I wasn’t aware of what the experiment did. I signed up for it. What really got me was I didn’t think it would actually work.

Now, I’m staring face to face with, well, me. It was my same blonde hair, though a little shorter. It had the same round, freckled face and pale skin. There were things that were different as well. This version of me was thinner around the midsection and hips, breasts were smaller too. The most glaring difference was the lack of a C-section scar. I suppose it would be lunacy if this other me had had a ‘Jason’. It was still strange to see it missing.

“Are you alright, Celi?”

“I mean, yeah, I just, this is all-” Celi took a steady breath. “Wow!”

“That’s the reaction I was hoping for.” Dr. Altuna smiled, holding out a clipboard for her.

Celi took it, only gave it a glance before looking back to him bewildered.

“Oh, these are the typical NDA, waivers, and other legal jargon. I need you to sign them before we can cut you the check. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh, right, can I read them?”

“Absolutely,” Dr. Altuna laughed. “Who signs contracts without reading them?”

Tons of Terms and Conditions and rental agreements flooded back to me at once. I immediately felt sheepish. The only defense I could muster was a wry smirk, though it did little to cover the guilty look I’m sure I was wearing.

“You can settle in at the Café on the second floor. Tell them Dr. Altuna sent you; they’ll get you anything you want.”

I nodded, not quite knowing how to respond. In truth, I wasn’t really listening; I was too focused on the prettier doppelganger floating in the tank. If only I’d kept that shape maybe George would have stayed or I could have kept my job at that boutique. Then I wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Celi Bartleby?”

The unfamiliar voice was enough to pull her from her musings.

The owner of the voice was a fresh-faced young man. His smile glowed against his dark skin.

I opened my mouth to say something but a self-conscious flush filled my head with the images of me fumbling the word, “handsome” from my traitorous lips.

“Yes.” I said, hating the burn of the blush already setting in.

“My name is Razi Tsunodo, I’m an intern here. I was asked to escort you to the Café?”

“Oh, Razi, thank you so much; I probably would have just gotten lost without you.”

Fuck was the only accompanying thought, at this point.

Still, he laughed at my stupid joke before taking my arm in the gentlest way. He led me out of the room into the hall.

“Is this your first time at Carbon Copy?” Razi asked, obviously being polite and making small talk.

“Second actually, the first time was to get a feel for what was going on.” I admitted.

“Obviously, you felt fine about it.”

His implication made me feel indignant but between his pretty smile, the hospital gown, and stack of papers in my hand, I couldn’t argue with his assumption.

“Well, the need for money sometimes outweighs moral implications, I’m afraid.”

“A hundred-thousand pounds is nothing to sneeze at. I was thinking of undergoing the Copy process myself.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, if only the end result were better.”

End result?

Razi must have read the look on my face as he continued to speak.

“After the process, the copies are experimented on, dissected, and studied to make sure no mutations exist, or a cheaper process can be perfected.”

“What, but they’re people?”

“You didn’t read the papers they gave you at the beginning, huh?” Razi said; his dark gaze made me feel tiny.

“I didn’t.”

Razi stopped, giving both sides of the hallway a glance before pulling me into a private office, away from prying eyes. He locked the door.

“Okay, here’s the thing about Copies; they’re not recognized as humans by the government because they’ve not been issued a Life ID numbers like others born in hospitals. That means they’re not protected under the Humanity Protection Act.” Razi explained.

“Carbon Copy preys on the busy, desperate, and ignorant to go through with the experiment without reading the fine print first. It’s easier to cut a check than it is to appeal to the courts for legal rights to perform these experiments.”

“Oh my god, I’m part of the problem.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. I’ve literately watched them do this hundreds of people. It’s only been recently that I’ve done anything about it.”

“How?”

“I help a few of them go ‘missing’, if you know what I mean.”

“And that’s works?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean they have all the memories up to the point of the cloning, after that they’re a separate entity.”

“Do you know if they make it?”

“I assume so; they’ve never brought them back.”

“So what can we do?”

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll come up with an idea.”

Razi took the papers with him, leaving me with my thoughts. It was the longest ten minutes of my life.

When he returned, I almost tinkled like an excited dog. He brought my clothes with him. I was happy to be out of the gown.

“They’ve moved your Copy to the holding area downstairs. It’s easier to get them out from there. Come on; let’s go while Dr. Altuna goes through your paperwork, to make sure it’s properly signed.”

Razi led me into a smaller hallway across from the door, it hooked to the right. There, we found an elevator leading down.


	15. Carbon Copy Part 2

The elevator let us out into a large chamber. It was darker than the halls above with the only light coming from the large domes above. Everything was smooth and metallic with muted colors.

Razi ushered me behind a snack cart, where we hid while he figured out the next step.

It was cold here, for this I was grateful to have my clothes back in favor of the papery hospital gown. It gave me something to think about, so I didn’t focus on my own pounding heart and shaky knees.

“Here’s the plan,” Razi began. “The security office is just ahead. There’s usually only one guard on duty. I will do what I can to distract him while you find your other self.”

“Aren’t the cages locked?”

“Yes but only from the outside. It’s a push-button activation. Release and take them to the end of the chamber. Find a place to hide and I’ll be along as soon as I can. Make sure you stay quiet, do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“Alright, I’ll snap my fingers three times, that’ll be your signal to go. Stay low and move quickly.”

I nodded. I didn’t know what else I could do. My mind flooded with the multitude of possible failures that awaited me. I was terrified.

Razi was gone by the time I snapped out of it. I could see him several feet away, standing in the doorway to the guard’s office. He was smiling, moving in his easy way, to charm whoever was on duty. My heart stopped when I heard the first snap. My legs tightened on the second and by the third, I was moving in a crouched run as if instincts swept me up.

The center of the chamber was filled with cells, sixteen in total. They were crafted of reinforced glass. Many of them stood empty but there were a few lost Copies pacing around inside the others. Mine was the only female of the lot, making her easier to spot.

There she was sitting on her bed, lost in thought. I rounded the cell and reached the door. I halted pushing the button when she recognized me. Her own bewilderment matched mine, when I first saw her. I touched a finger to my lips and she nodded. Thank god, she understood.

The door clicked and swung inward and she hurried towards me, crouching down to meet my height.

“I’m here to get you out.” I whispered. “Stay low, quiet, and we should be alright.”  
She nodded again and I took that as my cue to get moving.

We hurried along the chamber as quickly as we could. Her baggy gray pajamas were ill-fitted and threatened to fall off her hips as she moved. It was slowing her down but it was better than nothing, I suppose.

My heart stopped when I heard foot fall approaching from the left. She and I both hunkered down behind a row of counters as a doctor passed. I spared only a second’s worth of waiting before pushing on.

At the end of the corridor, as promised, were plenty of places to hide. They seemed to use this extra room as furniture storage. There were extra desks, gurneys, beds, tables, everything a person could use to hide behind and hide we did.

I managed to find some plastic-wrapped scrubs that might fit better. I sat and watched her change. It was a surreal feeling to watch a younger version of yourself from an outside perspective. It’s like watching an old family movie of a time you don’t remember and having to convince yourself that it was real.

When she was finished, she settled into the small desk alcove next to me. She was breathing heavily and trembling. I couldn’t blame her; I was feeling exactly the same.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Her wide eyes, blue just like mine, searched my face. She was wilder than I first realized.

“I’m you, yes, but you’re yourself too.” I said, realizing how stupid it sounded.

“I’m Celi.”

“I am too, I’m afraid.” I tried not to laugh.

She nodded slowly, still dazed by the whole premise of what happened. I took a deep breath, trying to center myself against the maelstrom of confusion going through my head.

“I’m Celi Bartleby, I had a hand in creating you and when I learned what would happen to you, I couldn’t sit idly by and let it.”

“What would have happened to me?”

“We’ll talk about that later. For now let’s try to stay quiet until Razi comes back.”  
She nodded and pursed her lips just like I do when I’m nervous.

“Thank you, I suppose,” She finally said. “How is Jason? Is he here, is he well?”  
I was more shocked to hear those words, coming out of her mouth, than I should be.

“Jason, how do you know that name?”

“He is my son; I gave birth to him, C-section. If you’re me, how do you not know that?”

It dawned on me that the doctors couldn’t pick and choose what memories a Copy kept. To this other me, she had a child named Jason, even if she really didn’t.

I didn’t know how to explain this to her, nor was this the time. I simply slipped my hand into hers and squeezed and gave her a reassuring smile.

Her hand was warm, soft like baby’s skin. How could these doctors live with the idea of cutting open these people? I wasn’t allotted enough time to find an answer before Razi came thundering over.

“Come on, we gotta go.” He said, running towards the door, a few feet away. 

“Now.”

That was all the invitation I needed. We got to our feet and managed two steps before the dull lights overhead turned a red hot color and the honking of a siren filled the large chamber, echoing deep into my brain.

They were onto us.


	16. Carbon Copy Part 3

Razi managed to hit the door right on the third try. The lock bounced, unlatched. He barely had time to correct himself before he fell through the door and started down the stairs. I was hot on his heels with my fingers laced with the other Celi.

“Where are we going?” I managed.

“Down here,” He panted, rounding the landing and launching down another flight of stairs. “There’s a maintenance hatch down here in the medical waste area.”

As he finished, I heard the door, above, burst open. At least half a dozen security guards were in pursuit. They sounded divided as to which way to go. With any luck, they’d split up, then we’d only have three large, armed guards to worry about.

I felt the other Celi slip before I even heard her. Something urged me to grab hold and I did. We tumbled down a few stairs and hit the wall of the landing. Nothing broken but my arm ached and I managed to crack my knee.

“Go.” I ordered.

Other Celi refused. She pulled me up and took and shouldered half of my weight as we started down again. I was amazed at how strong she was, compared to me. How easily she took the extra weight without difficulty?

Razi waited, holding a door open for us with his foot. We went through and he closed it behind us.

“Come on, we’re almost there.” Razi said, walking across a catwalk. “Don’t look down.”

His warning was too late because I did. What I saw was abhorrent. The shallow concrete stream, full of Copies, ran beneath. They were lying, wide-eyed and gap-mouthed. Some had severed limbs; others were cut open from genitals to neck, and all of them were dead.

I immediately worried for the other Celi. What must she think of this?

When I turned back, she leaned against the railing looking down at the mass grave. Her eyes were innocent and clear of emotion, as if she wasn’t surprised by this.

“You were right.” She said.

“I wish I wasn’t.”

“No, this is mankind at its center. If they create, they own it, like so many toys.”

“They play too rough and often break their toys.” Razi said, taking my hand as I took hers in kind.

Razi lead us across the catwalk and through a narrow tunnel to another large chamber. This looked to be a filtration center, hard at work cleaning the Copies’ viscera out of the water supply. That way it could be reuse in the facility. The thought made me nauseous.

“There it is.”

A small metal hatch was set into the wall, across the room. Razi reached it first, turning the wheel until and audible ka-chunk could be heard inside. It was cumbersome to open, evident by Razi’s grunts.

“You’re first, Celi.” The other me said.

“Nah, you get in there.”

She was, after all, the important package; we were trying to escape with. They wouldn’t dare kill Razi or I that would be murder. She’d be safer running on ahead.

She climbed in on all fours. It was dark inside, almost impossible to see. The prospect of being in such tight quarters in the dark wasn’t my favorite thing.

As if Razi could understand my hesitations, he reached into the hatch and flicked a switch. Two rows of pale runner-lights followed the edges of the crawl space.

“You’re next, get in there.” Razi said pointedly.

“There they are!” A voice called from across the room.

It was followed by several loud shot. The concrete next to me exploded out, raining small flecks of stone onto me. My heart nearly stopped and my fear was getting the better of me.

A hand reached out from the hatch and took mine, pulling me inside. Razi, with his hands indignantly on my backside, was pushing from other side. It worked; I was able to regain composure, letting it propel me through the dim light.

Another round of gunfire echoed through the tight confines. I looked back and saw Razi climbing in. He pulled the door closed behind him and I heard him grunt, trying to fidget with the door until it locked.

“Take a left.” He called to us, struggling to catch up.

The other Celi was already around the corner as I crawled to meet her. I saw the other Celi shifting about, clearly confused as where to go next. This crawl space didn’t lead anywhere.

“It’s a dead end.” She said, frustrated.

“Can you swim?” Razi asked, pushing me into the alcove.

“Yes.” We said at the same time.

“Good.”

Razi crawled past us to the very end of the tunnel and with one sharp kick, another hatch opened to a heavily flowing sluice. I felt my heart leap to my throat at the sight of it.

“Hold your breath as long as you can. Snatch another when you can.” His voice kept dropping off against the rush of the water. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Just like that, Razi was gone. He slipped out of the opening and was swept away. To my surprise, the other Celi followed, without hesitation, leaving me to ponder this for another three seconds before I too dove in.

The world stretched around me as I slipped from darkness into light and back again. Everything happened so fast. I barely had time to snatch a quick breath before I was pulled under again.

A split second later, I was out in the open, falling straight down into a bubbling torrent below. I stretched my body as much as I could, anything to reduce the impact when I hit. It still hurt but at least nothing was broken.

I slipped down stream until I saw a small pen light flickering off the edge of the flow. I managed to swim close enough for the other Celi to grab me and pulled me ashore.

I can’t believe we managed to escape.


	17. Carbon Copy Part 4

Razi allowed us a few minutes to rest while he patched himself up. He’d been shot. Nothing serious, he assured us. He was telling true because he was up in no time and we were on the move.

“We’ll have to get your son, tonight. The three of you will have to go into hiding.” Razi explained, leading the way through the dead foliage towards the city.

“Go into hiding, where?”

I know it was silly to argue. Those security guards saw me. They knew that my Copy was missing and they had all my information. Jason was in danger.

“Well, I have a place you two can go.” Razi said, sitting down on the ledge before dropping down to the highway below. “Let me make a call and see what I can do.” 

He grunted and went down on one knee, when he landed. He gripped his side, a fresh wave of blood started dripping through the makeshift bandages.

“Are you alright?” I called, helping lower the other Celi down.

“Yeah, just hurts is all.”

We helped him up and hurried across the road before someone driving by could spot us.

By the time we reached the other side, we could hear sirens. The fact they were moving towards us may have been a coincident but no one wanted to bank on that.

“Slow up.” Razi said.

We followed him into the shadow of the overpass, where he leaned against the wall. Razi fished his phone from his pocket and handed it to me.

“Call your son, tell him to ready one bag and I’ll send a person around to pick him up and bring him to us.”

“He’s eight; and knows better than to leave with a stranger.”

“Give him a secret phrase and I’ll tell my guys to repeat it, when they get there.” Razi said, sounding frustrated.

“Goodbye, Baby Blue.” The other Celi said.

She managed to draw both of our attentions. She was right. I was the only one who knew that was Jason’s favorite song.

I dialed the number and waited the three rings before I heard him pick up.

“Hello, baby boy.” I said.

“Mom, are you alright? I’ve been waiting for you; I’m so hungry, I-”

“I know Jason, listen closely. Mommy needs you do something.”

I told him everything Razi told me, including the secret phrase the other Celi came up with. The boy sounded scared but he repeated everything back to me. The plan started to feel like it would work, Jason was going to be okay.

“I love you, sweetie, I’ll see you soon.”

I hesitated to hang up until I was sure Jason had.

I handed the phone back to him and joined the other Celi. She leaned into me and wrapped an arm across my shoulders while we listened to Razi’s voice.

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I need you to go to apartment twenty-four of the Everlasting Eternity apartment building.”

“That’s right, the one on Burk Street. There’s a boy named Jason. Give him the phrase ‘Goodbye, Baby Blue’ and he’ll come with you. Take him to the Moonshade shelter; I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

“No, no, send another car around for us. We don’t want to endanger the boy any more than we already have.”

“Alright, that sounds good, we’ll meet you there.”

When he hung up the phone, he walked over to join us. I could tell how tired he was and I knew the wound in his side must be hurting. Right now, I wished I had my purse or some Ibuprofen to give him.

“A car will be around to get us,” He said. “Come on, he said he’d meet us at the the coffee shop on the corner.”

“Are you going to be okay?” We asked at the same time.

“I don’t know; this is my first gunshot wound. It’s a small price to pay for the revolution.”

Revolution, was he serious? I reminded myself that Razi might be serious. We knew nothing about him or this mysterious organization that’s will to drive around and pick up strangers. Not to mention, secret shelters where they’d meet at. What was going on?

We sat in a booth at the front of the coffee shop, so we watch for his contact to arrive. The coffee was warm and tasted good, though it worked hell on my already jittery body.

I finally worked up the confidence to ask. “What are you?”

Razi stared blankly at me for a second.

“Who do you work for and what is actually going on?”

“Oh,” He mumbled, worrying the edge of his mug. “We all agree what Carbon Copy is doing is shady, right?”

We both nodded.

“Well, I work for a group of people trying to change it, either by getting them to stop all together, or recognize Copies are people which would limit experimentation on them.” He paused as someone walked past. “That’s why I took a job there, so I could gather as much info as I can.”

“So, it’s like a real revolution then?” The other Celi asked.

“Hopefully it’ll be a war waged in the court room because I don’t know how many more bullets I can take.”

A black car pulled up and Razi dropped a few dollars on the table before hurrying us out.

I held the door for the other me, who graciously slipped in. I settled in next to her with Razi flopping next to me. He lay his head back, focusing on his breathing.

“You look pale, my friend, do you need a doctor?”

“I’ll get one once we make it Moonshade.” Razi said.

Without another word, the car pulled away from the curb.

The ride was quiet. This mysterious driver stuck to alleys and side streets to keep from being noticed. If he was suspicious of a car behind us; he’d take a few more turns before redirected to the way he was heading.


	18. Carbon Copy Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finale of Carbon Copy

Everything happened so fast. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t exciting. It might have been more so if I knew my Jason was safe.

He was.

A tall man stood with him, on a concrete landing, near where we pulled up. Whoever was in charge knew I’d want to see him immediately.

I hugged him harder than I ever hugged him before. Another pair of arms joined in the hug. I knew without looking, it was the other me. She let out a soft moan that made my heart hurt.

We parted and I watched a wide range of emotions play across Jason’s face as he looked between us.

“Mom?” His inevitable question came.

“It’s a long story.” I said. “We’ll tell you about it later.”

“For now, we have to get you to the higher ups and find out our next course of action.” Razi said, gripping my shoulder tightly.

“What about you?”

“I’ll find the rest of you after I’ve been patched up, for now Deacon will take care of you.”

The tall man nodded and opened the iron door behind him, letting us pass. The whole shelter was a labyrinth of greenish-gray walls. Littering the walls were dozens of doors leading into rooms.

We stopped at a door and Deacon opened it. A small military style room lay behind it. It had bunk beds, a footlocker, a desk with a chair, and a mirror above. Behind a curtain, at the back of the room, was a small shower and toilet.

“You can stay here.” Deacon stated. “Everything you need is in the footlocker. Take a shower and get dressed. I’ll be around get you when they’re ready for you.”

“What about food for my son?” The other Celi asked.

“I’ll bring something with me when I come.”

He bid us goodbye and left, closing the door.

While the other Celi showered, I explained the situation to my son, which turned out embarrassing than I hoped. A child shouldn’t have to know how poor their family is. It not a worry I ever wanted him to have.

I think he understood though.

“Do I call her mom?”

“I suppose so.” I said.

“What do you call her?”

What an interesting question. Until now, I’d not considered it. I couldn’t just call her ‘other me’ for the rest of her life. I also felt it wasn’t my place to name her. She was a person, not a pet.

“You can call me Li, if you like.” The other me said, after she turned the water off.

“Li’s a pretty name.”

“I think so too.” Jason said, smiling.

“That’s sweet of the both of you.” She said.

Once she was dressed, we swapped places.

I stepped out feeling refreshed and found Deacon waiting for me.

Li and Jason were sitting at the desk while he ate a bologna sandwich while she amazed him with stories and memories; he’d not expected her to have. What it must feel like to have two identical mothers? Frightening, I’d imagine.

“Are you ready to go?”

“He said I can wait right here and if I don’t feel safe, I can just lock the door?” Jason said with a large smile.

“Yeah, I took the liberty of explaining out concern.” Li said.

My heart swelled at the gesture. “Alright, you heard the man, just settle in here and we’ll be back.”

Li and I both hugged him before leaving. I took comfort in the sound of the door locking behind us.

Deacon led us to a room full of electronic equipment, like something out of gritty sci-fi movie. People with headsets lined the console to the right. They were talking in low tones to not interfere with the others.

I spotted Razi speaking to an older woman with white hair and glasses. There was a fondness in the way they looked at each other.

“That’s Mother.” Deacon explained, leading us to her.

“There’s got to be other Copies willing to help our cause. We just have to get them before Carbon Copy can experiment on them.” Razi explained.

“That would have been a lot easier if you’d avoided detection, Razi.” The woman teased.

Her crystal blue eyes stopped on us as we approached. “Well, if it isn’t Cerulean Bartleby and her Copy.”

“Celi will do fine.”

“And you can call me Li.”

“Oh, this is interesting. You’re fully individualized, aren’t you?” Mother said.

She touched Li’s cheek and turned her face for a better look.

“Yes.”

“And you have all your memories?”

“Yes.” Li went stiff as Mother pulled her left ear forward.

“You’re number 9336, impressive.”

It was the first time I was aware of any barcode. What a silly notion that a Copy needed a serial numbers.

“They’ve created almost ten thousand of them?” I said.

“It shouldn’t be that surprising. There are three hundred of us and we’re all Copies.”

It felt as if the room was spinning around me. I gripped the edge of the table to keep from falling over.

“Are you okay?” Mother asked, resting a hand on my shoulder.

“You’re all Copies?”

“Yeah.” Razi smiled. “Mother was the first.”

Mother turned her ear so I could see the single serial bar with a one below it. Ravi had one as well. I suddenly became very aware that everyone was looking at me.

“This is crazy.” I snapped.

“It’s no more insane than them making a copy of a copy.” Mother said, folding her hands in front of her.

“What are you talking about?” I started backing towards the door.

“You’re the legendary 777, the first Copy, to not only have a biological child with a human, but also the only one to have a successful Copy made from you.”

“You’re like a god to us.” Razi said breathily.

“What? No, you’re wrong. I’m human!” I screamed.

“That’s right, we all are human and that’s why we must all fight.”

I must be dreaming, please let this be a dream.


	19. Behind Enemy Lines Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanders and most of his platoon went down behind enemies lines. They have to push on through to the depot before night falls on them. No one wants to be in the jungle at night.

Gunfire rattled in the distance but the trees were too thick to tell from what direction. Alex Sanders moved to point while the rest of his platoon fell in behind him, three feet between each of them.

Dennis Marx said, at the beginning of all of this. “Three feet between each soldier gives them a better chance of avoiding the six feet deep alternative.”

Unfortunately for Marx, the three feet talk didn’t factor in the chopper getting shot out of the sky. That’s how they got into this mess and why they were several dozen clicks away from their destination.

“God, my neck is killing me.” Julio Sanchez muttered from behind.

“Yeah, well, we just fucking crashed, so I’d be surprised if it didn’t.” Ray Douglas snickered, his cigarette bouncing on his lip.

Little Marko ‘Rat’ Forrester piped up from between Sanders and Sanchez. “I just wish Marx and Renford had made it.”

No one spoke for a few moments after that. Everyone was busy processing the loss of their companions in their own ways.

It was Douglas who broke in at last. “Well, statistically speaking, only two of the six of us should have survived that crash.”

“I mean, yeah, I get that.” Rat said.

“We were seriously-”

“Shut up, guys, and get down.”

The group hunkered down at the base of a tree, staying as low and quiet as they could. Beyond the tree, they could all hear someone moving through the foliage. Whoever they were, they were sneaking, but they could still hear them. It was impossible to tell how many there were, though.

Rat touched a finger to his lips and Sanders nodded. He slipped a few steps away, keeping low so he disappeared in the overgrowth.

After a few moments, his hand came up out of the grass and made a gesture indicating enemy soldiers and followed it up by holding out four fingers.

Four enemy soldiers within sight; take them or leave them? Sanders looked at the others, questioningly. Douglas was the only one to vote for taking them out. They could’ve succeeded but it was too risky, since they had no other escape route then running through the jungle. Sanders stayed quiet until the danger passed. When the coast was clear, they were on the move again.

After a while, they felt as though they’d been walking for hours. The same sputtering gunfire set their pace.

They rounded a bramble of trees, when Sanders saw it. Another helicopter downed against a tangle of trees. He and the rest of his platoon crouched down and hurried over to investigate.

The fires had been out for a while. Inside, lying twisted among the wreckage, were the bodies of four soldiers. Considering how lucky they’d been to survive their crash, it left a sick feeling deep in their guts.

“Those poor bastards,” Douglas sneered in disgust. “Sonsabitches deserved better.”

“No argument there.” Rat said.

“Nothing can help that now. Let’s get a move on. I don’t like the prospect of being stuck out in the jungle at night.” Sanders mumbled, walking away from the gristly scene.

Sanders set the pace. It was a quicker than before but nobody complained. They all agreed with Sanders’ thinking, no one wanted to be out here in the dark.

They reached a creek bed, much like the ones that they’d run across before. The things seemed to litter the jungle floor.

After a brief search, Rat found a weak tree, at the water’s edge. The platoon had little trouble pushing it over to make a bridge easily traversed to cross the muddy water.

Everyone was so focused on crossing the log that they nearly missed the enemy soldiers meandering a few yards away. If Sanchez hadn’t been so quick and quiet with his reaction, they’d all been dead. He roughly pulled them back into the foliage, at the base of the tree, they’d just pushed over.

The four enemy soldiers were discussing something that looked like a map, clutched in one of their hands. They were too far away to hear what they were saying and even if they weren’t, no one spoke the language.

Soon the soldiers moved on.

Sanders was the first to stand up out of the thick, wet leaves. The others followed his example.

“Is everyone alright?” Sanders asked.

“I think I’m alright.” Sanchez said.

“I’m good, sir.” Rat said.

“Top notch, considering I’m floundering around the fucking jungle like a rat.” Douglas shot a glance to Rat. “No offense.”

“Some taken.” Rat chuckled.

“Alright you guys, you can make out when we get to the depot. Let’s get a move on.” Sanders ordered.

“Double-time, Sarge?”

“Nah, we’ll save it until it gets later, let’s move.”

Following Sanders compass, they continued walking the same direction. It was impossible to tell if they were making any progress but they had to be, right? They’ve been walking for almost five hours.

“Look guys,” Douglas said somberly. “Another one bites the dust.”

Another helicopter downed, lost amidst the jungle foliage. The oil burned hot, leaving the metal a charred, mangled mess. Inside were four barely recognizable corpses, obviously U.S. soldiers who didn’t even see it coming.

“These mother fuckers are gonna pay for this and that’s a goddamn fack.” Douglas gritted his teeth.

“I doubt it.” Rat said.

“What the fuck did you say, little man?”

“Look Ray!” Rat’s voice spiked, uncharacteristically. “They’re fucking spanking us. How did we expect this to go? I mean, we literately dropped right into their backyard to shit all over it, how did we see this going any other way than them booting us the fuck out?”

“You ungrateful little-”

“That’s enough! If you guys wanna have a fucking slap fight, do it at the depot. I’m not interested in dying over something this stupid.”

Before anyone else could say anything, Sanders jaunted towards the direction they were going. It forced the others to keep up or get left behind.


	20. Behind Enemy Lines Part 2

Night should be approaching by now, though determining the sun’s position through the thick canopy of leaves was near impossible and Sanders watch was damaged in the helicopter crash.

“There are soldiers, on the other side of the hill, coming this way.” Sanchez said.

Sanders almost asked him how he knew, but four soldiers crested the hill, walking towards the downed helicopter.

“Get down!” Sanders ordered, disappearing into the thick brush.

Everyone but Douglas followed his example. He stood defiantly, took aim with his M-16. Some wild growled inside of him. He wanted those soldiers to see him. He wanted them to see where their death was coming from.

“No you idiot!” Sanders hissed but his voice fell deaf against the sputter of gunfire.

The quick burst bounced the assault rifle in Douglas’s hands and he missed. How could he miss? He was the best shot in the outfit.

Again, he opened fire, a longer burst this time and somehow he missed again. He couldn’t believe it. To make matters even less believable, the soldiers didn’t even look at him. They just kept walking towards him.

“What the fuck is going on, man?” He yelled.

Douglas fired a few more short bursts until his magazine went dry. 

All the bullets missed.

The soldiers were close now, there was no way they didn’t see him and yet they still did nothing to intercept him.

Douglas screamed, drew his combat knife and lunged at the closest one. Expecting the sudden stop sent him stumbling right through him. In his rage, he made a few more slashes and nothing happened.

Desperation filled his eyes as he looked to Sanders for understanding.

“What the fuck is this, Poncho?”

“We’re dead.” Sanchez said.

“What?”

“Yeah, I noticed it back at the helicopter, when you guys were having your little slap fight.” Sanchez frowned. “The numbers on that helicopter were the same as ours.”

“And you waited until now to tell us?” Sanders said.

“Yeah, I had to make sure I put everything together.” He said pragmatically.

“If we’re dead,” Rat voice cracked. “Why are we still here? Isn’t there supposed to be a bright light or a ferryman or something?”

“I don’t know,” Sanchez said. “I’m not a death-sayer. I’m just telling you what I know.”

“If we’re dead, where are Marx and Renford, smart guy?” Douglas asked.

“Still alive.” Sanders added. “They’re probably back at the helicopter waiting for a rescue.”

“No shit? Wouldn’t we have seen them?”

“Not if they were hiding – shit.”

Rat cut in. “Those soldiers are heading right for them. We gotta warn them somehow.”

“How?”

“I don’t know but we gotta try.” Sanders said.

He led the charge after the soldiers. It took no time to catch up and pass them as they walked towards the helicopter.

When they reached the mass of wrecked metal, Marx was sitting at the base of a tree, a few away from the wreckage, radio in hand. Greg Renford was pacing around. His eyes toward the sky, through the canopy opening the helicopter made, waiting for rescue. They were unaware of the approaching enemy forces.

“Guys!” Rat shouted, bursting free of the foliage. “There are enemy forces on their way; they’re going to kill you. You have to hide.”

Renford and Marx turned in his direction, their faces bent in concern. Somehow they must have heard him but Rat couldn’t figure out how.

“Please guys, get to cover or else-”

“What the fuck is going on?” Renford asked.

“What?” Douglas snapped.

“Yeah, how are you here? We watched you burn up in the fire.”

Renford sniffled. “I can still hear you guys screaming, when I shut my eyes.”

“We are dead but we came back to warn you. Troubles coming and if you don’t hide, you’re going to be dead right alongside us.”

“They already are.” Sanchez said.

“What?” Renford and Sanders said at the same time.

“Look.” He gestured to the foliage.

Lying in the bushes was Marx’s twisted frame. Bullet holes riddled his body. The one in his left temple was the cause of his death.

A few feet away, lying against the base of a tree was Renford. He was shot in the stomach and managed to crawl away, only to bleed out an hour later.

“Those fucking bastards.” Renford said, breaking down in tears.

They all stood there, listening to the spattering of gunfire and the soft sounds of Renford crying while Marx tried to comfort him.

“They did it.” Douglas said breaking the silence. “They fucking did it.”

“It appears so.” Sanders hung his head.

“So what do we do now?” Rat asked, sitting in the grass.

“Yeah, shouldn’t we have moved on?” Marx asked.

“You’d figure. Shouldn’t some angels flutter down to whisk us away to our eternity?” Renford said, searching the other’s faces for answers.

“I don’t think it works that way.” Sanchez said.

“Oh shit, there’s our Shaman, sitting over there being mysterious. Please, regale us with your wisdom, oh great one.” Douglas said.

Sanchez smirked. “Typical Ray, you’re an asshole even in the afterlife. It’s just my luck; we’re stuck together for all eternity.”

“What do you mean?” Sanders asked.

“Apparently, there’s something to the last rites after all. I figure since we’re not buried or getting buried, where going to be stuck here for a while.”

“No, no that’s bullshit. I mean, someone has to be coming, right?” Renford said.

He looked at Marx, who wore his despair openly. He turned the radio over in his hand and everyone saw the front was shattered, exposing the wires. Renford felt as if someone kicked him in the stomach.

“I wasn’t able to call for support.”

“No one’s coming to get us.” Sanders scoffed, shaking his head.

“Fuck me.” Douglas sighed. “So this is it?”

“It appears so.” Sanchez sighed and looked towards the sky.

Everyone followed his gaze, looking towards the sun, frozen in the time, as like they were.


	21. The Gamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gruesome Part 1 of 3
> 
> A group of friends get together to play a hot new game beta, unaware of what the true consequences are.

Dylan stared at the lobby screen for “Gruesome”, a hot new title for PC. It was a PVE Battle Royale that pitted a hundred people, playing zombies, against the most advanced artificial intelligence in development.

The game developer mentioned the AI was based on the same technology used by the United States military to help train soldiers. They promised that NPCs would adapt to standard tricks and if a player didn’t up their game, they’d be no match. Gruesome was all Dylan could think about since he and his friends registered.

His avatar was a gruesome looking zombie with a surprising amount of customization. He gave it a hairstyle close to his from the offered ten. It looked as though he could unlock more as he played. Even the ragged t-shirt and torn jeans could be changed. There was a notion for micro-transactions but it seemed as though that would be later down the road.

Dylan plugged in his headset before slipping them on. The moment he activated the group chat, he was assaulted by a wave of greetings from his friends.

“Sorry that took so long; I was finishing up dinner so you didn’t have to hear me munching.” He said, cracking open his energy drink.

“We appreciate that. Nothing worse than listening to you your nose whistles, when you chew.” Edgar let loose a jagged laugh.

“It’s better than that exaggerated moan you do, when you’re eating stuff.” Stacy retorted.

“I’m fat, I like food, that kinda shit shouldn’t surprise y’all.”

“Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty. Let’s get this show on the road.” Michael chimed in.

“Agreed; we’ve only been waiting to play this Beta for eight months now. I don’t want to waste any more time.” Dylan said; eager to tear apart some computerized citizens.

“Alright, logging in.” Stacy said.

“Me too.” Edgar said.

“Everyone’s in. Hit play, Captain.” Edgar urged.

When Dylan clicked the bloody ‘Play’ button, it dropped the four of them in a list that rapidly climbed to a hundred, the magic number for the server.

His screen shifted to the inside of a transport truck. He and a hundred other zombies shuffled around, bumping into each other. All of his friends’ screen names were in blue so they could easily find each other.

“Oh shit, for a Beta, these graphics are tight.” Dylan said.

“Wow Stacy, did you know you have one zombie titty out?” Edgar said.

“Oh nice zitty, Stace.” Michael added.“Yeah, I did it for you guys because I know it’s the only titty you’ll ever see.” Stacy laughed.

“Yeah, I did it for you guys because I know it’s the only titty you’ll ever see.” Stacy laughed.

“Hey guys, pay attention, they’re about to open the gate and dump us out.” Dylan said, leaning forward in his seat.

Dylan worked his avatar through the other bodies to get closer to the back door. Michael pushed passed him and the doors opened. The first person perspective made it next to impossible to navigate the ramp. Michael pitched off to the side and fell to the ground, sustaining a little damage.

“Fall damage: Check.” He said.

Dylan didn’t hear him; he was too focused on the graphics. The survivor’s animation as they screamed and tried to run away was so perfect. They must have used motion capture on them. He expected to see a lot of repeat animations but there was none.

He managed to snag a lady in the doorway, going into her house. She was trying to say something but the developer chose to use a foreign language. Dylan assumed it was a way to cut down on the cost of voice acting. Her screams were so realistic though, Dylan almost felt bad for chomping her but the two hundred experience points help balance that out.

“Oh man, I just got five hundred XP for munching a kid.” Edgar laughed.

“They allow you to kill kids? This game is out to break some rules.” Stacy said, trapping a cop in his car and tearing his throat out.

“Hey guys, guys there a prime target over here. A little hint birdy told me he’s worth five thousand XP.” Michael said.

“Where?” Dylan said, turning his camera to see.

“Is it shared?” Edgar asked.

“Who the fuck cares, it is suppertime!”

Stacy was already shambling towards the man with the golden skull above his head.

The four of them moved on the house he walked into, following the sound of his voice, ordering his family to hide. Michael reached the front door, at the top of a flight of stairs, and slammed against it.

“Shit, the door’s reinforced. It’s gonna take a dozen hits at least.” He said.

“Found a window, I’m goin’ in.” Edgar said.

He lunged through the window. The whole screen shook and turned red for a second. Half his health was gone just like that. When he shifted the camera to look around, he watched the prime target chop down with an axe. There was a sickening crunch and his screen went black except for a bloody ‘You Are Dead’ scrawled out against it.

“Fuck, I’m dead. Be careful, he’s armed.” Edgar said.

He clicked through to spectate Michael, who was just breaking down the door. Stacy pushed past him into the living room.

“Oh man, he has two kids and a wife. That’s some fat XP right there.” She laughed and went for the kid behind the couch.

“Look out, guys!”

Dylan turned too slowly and watched as a flaming bottle flew at him. It exploded all over him and Michael in the doorway. He watched helplessly as his health bar fell. Michael squealed first and crumpled to the ground.

“Damn.”

“Same.” Dylan grunted. “How are you doing, Stace?”

“The same as you guys, the fucking bitch had a gun and headshotted me.” She said exasperated.

“So, what did you guys think?” Dylan asked.

They all chimed in, over-talking each other. Everyone was excited to queue up for another run. Move over Fortnite, and PUBG, this is definitely going to be the next big craze.


	22. The Survivor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gruesome Part 2 of 3

They were zombies; fucking zombies.

Hussan could hardly believe what he saw. A military vehicle pulled up to the town center and dumped a load of zombies onto the unsuspecting people. Panic ensued immediately.

He made hasty retreat for his home leaving the desperate screams behind him. It was cowardice, he knew, but he had to get back to his wife and kids before anything happened to them.

The alleyway, he ducked down, let out near his house. None of the flesh-eaters managed to find it before he made it through. It would have been a death trap, otherwise.

A zombie grabbed at him from the shadows. He managed to plant a firm palm into its chest to shove it away. It teetered and fell hard against the wall, giving him time to escape.

Hussan hit the short staircase, leading to his front door. He ran up them, taking them two at a time. The door was locked, thankfully. That meant none of the things got inside yet, though he could see four of them shambling towards him.

He knocked. “Marti, open the door, it’s me.”

“Hussan?” His wife said from inside.

It was followed by a heavy click of the door lock and it slid opened. Hussan hurried inside. Marti, his wife was already locking the door again.

“I heard the screaming, what’s going on out there, husband?”

“Zombies.”

“Zombies?” Marti repeated.

Hearing it said out loud sounded crazy, but it was the truth, no matter how much he wanted it to be a lie. There were zombies terrorizing the town’s people.

Marti looked at him as if he were raving mad, until he took the wooden box from the top shelf in the closet. He unlocked it and pulled a pistol from the velvet cradle. After a quick check, he pushed it into her hands.

“Take this and use it only when you have too.”

Marti could see desperation in his face and gave him a stern nod.

A bottle of tequila rested on the bookshelf. He took it and unscrewed the cap. Marti knew full-well what he was doing and tore the hem of her shirt off, handing it to him. Hussan worked it into the bottle, sloshing it around so it could soak up some of the alcohol. He set it on the coffee table, hoping he wouldn’t need it.

“I need you all to stay in this room, until I can get ahold of someone. Please.”

Just then, something pounded against the door. Thank god, he’d replaced it with a much sturdier door, recently. The hammering made Marti and the kids jump as they ran to the back wall behind the couch. Hussan kept eyeing the Molotov.

“I’ll be right back; I’m getting the axe from the pantry.” Hussan said.

Marti tried to urge her husband not to go, but he was already out of the room.

That’s when she heard the window in the kitchen shatter and started to fear for the worst.

Clever fuckers, Hussan let his axe speak his frustration. He brought it down hard on the back of the thing’s neck. It swiveled to look at him with its hollow, white eyes before he gave it another whack, sending its head tumbling across the floor.

With a mighty shove, he pushed the body back through the window and pulled the shutters closed, latching them.

Never a dull moment, he heard the front door crumple caused his heart to skip a beat. He sprinted back to his family.

One of the zombies was going after the kids and against his better judgment; he trusted his wife to do what was necessary when the time came. He was more concerned about the two other zombies struggling to get through the front door. There was only one way to deal with them.

He flicked his lighter with one hand, took the bottle in the other and lit it up. Both of the zombies were oblivious to the incoming firestorm rolling in. He chucked the bottle hard and watched as it exploded in a fiery burst.

Secretly, he wanted to watch the bastards melt into a puddles but the sound of a gunshot stole his gaze. Marti, his wife, love of his life, had the gun angled up and the bullet tore through the zombies chin, sending its decayed gray matter splattering the wall behind it. It took one shaky step and crumpled to the floor.

Marti was close to falling apart. Fear was getting the best of her but there was no time for that. Hussan took her hand and pulled her to look at him.

“Come on, grab your purse, we have to get out of here. Kids, put your shoes on.”

His orders were succinct.

While they were doing what he told them too, he took the jar from the top of the bookshelf and pulled a large wad of money from it. Everything else would definitely be destroyed in the fire that was growing larger the longer they lingered.

“Hey, Amir, it’s Hussan. I’m in trouble and I need evacuated.” He spoke into his phone as he led his family to the back door.

“No, the town is compromised.”

“Yes, I’ll meet you there. Just hurry and bring a vehicle big enough for my family, please.”

There were no goodbyes; his contact was already on his way. It would take five minute walk to the meeting point, by the bridge. If his pickup wasn’t already there, it wouldn’t be much long after that.

The thought of leaving all his friends behind, made him sad but saving his family was his most important priority right now.

Hussan ordered his family to stay low, quiet, and to not to look back. It was the only way they’d be able to slip out unnoticed. They did as he said.

When they reached the bridge, the ride wasn’t there yet but that gave Hussan a moment to notice another military vehicle pass by, on its way another nearby village. His heart sank, knowing that it was carrying another load of death for the poor town’s folks.


	23. The Puppet Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gruesome Part 3 of 3

Sgt. Waters paced along the row of monitors, studying the outcome of each match as they happened. His face drew grim at the realization that all two hundred registrant that applied were queueing up for another run almost immediately.

Some of the “enlisted” were skilled at finding work-arounds to take out regular survivors but as expected the militant survivors and police were heartier targets and required teamwork to bring them down.

Back in the day, wars were fought on battlefields, by brave men and women. Consequences meant something, which required everyone to work together to succeed. Now, he watched a fleet of zombies being controlled by a bunch of kids, all in the name of some imaginary monetization. The game lived up to its name however. It was gruesome in every sense.

This is what war was now. A game played by powerful people, with money, and no balls to speak of.

“Sir?”

A voice came from behind. It was so dark in the room he couldn’t quite figure out who it was, at first, but then he saw the beady eyes behind the glasses and knew immediately.

“Glen.” He said.

“Reports of the mass hysteria in the middle east are starting to come in. We’re working in tandem with the embassy and the news to keep it all quiet. You know how the public would react if information about this got out”

“A real zombie outbreak, don’t be ridiculous. As long as we keep real images and videos off the net, no one’s gonna believe a goddamn thing.”

“What if this gets out of hand?” Glen asked.

“We have a kill-switch for Christ’s sake, stop worrying about it.” Waters said.

“Sir, the kill-switch only has an eighty percent success rate, right now. There’s no guarantee it’ll get them all.”

“Your job is to come up with new content and incentives to keep these maggots playing this stupid game.”

“Are you alright, sir?” Glen asked.

“No,” Waters said, turning back. “This is the only way to fight wars anymore.”

He watched a survivor, on the monitor, hurrying his family out of a burning house. This survivor seemed particularly gifted at staying alive. Moments earlier, he killed three of the zombies like they were nothing. It was an incredible feat.

“That’s Hussan, he’s a major voice against the war in the middle east. We marked him as a Prime Target, so gamers will go after him more ferociously.” The man explained.

“Why’s that?”

“He’s worth five thousand XP, which unlocks some cosmetic items for their avatar.”

“I gonna pretend like I understand what you’re talking about. Does it work?”

“Yes sir.”

“How?”

“We’ve sniped some of gaming industries brightest programmers and marketing directors. We’re working on setting up monthly events and other chances to earn loot in return for killing our enemies. If our ‘troops’ die, no harm, they’re already dead.” Glen explained.

Waters tuned out.

He watched three zombies circling a woman, protecting her three kids. Two of them managed to distract her, while the third grabbed a child and tore into its throat. The shower of blood seemed fake; almost animated. It churned Waters’ stomach.

The woman managed to brain him with a claw hammer, killing him instantly. It got stuck, leaving her open for the other two children to get snatched up. Why would they do that, it seemed cruel?

“Kids are worth five hundred XP.” Glen answered the unasked question.

“Good god, why?”

“One of the geeks, doing the branding, said it was a good idea. There are no other games that allow you to kill kids.” Glen explained.

“That’s because it’s fucking disgusting. What have we become?”

“I don’t get paid enough to entertain that thought, sir.” Glen said.

“No, but I do and I can tell you right now, this is fucking wrong.” Waters snapped.

Glen stared blankly.

“I have half a mind to expose this whole thing. I didn’t spend twenty-three years serving this country just so we can do some underhanded black magic bullshit. This is no different than firebombing Oklahoma, except-”

Glen chimed in. “Except this is Saudi Arabia and no one gives a shit, sir.”

He was right, and Glen hated him for it.

“This is wrong.”

“Then quit.”

Another’s voice sounded in the room.

“General Gilmour sir.” Waters saluted, wondering how long he’d been listening.

“Waters, you’re a hell of a soldier and I have such immense respect for you. It pains me to hear you talk about our beautiful county with such distain. If this isn’t what you want, then please quit.” He said sternly, the blue light from the monitors cut dark lines on his sharp features.

“Sir, all I’m saying it this is wrong. Killing civilians is not what the America is about.”

“We are now, son. These aren’t just civilians; they are people only inches away from revolution. The only thing more dangerous than an idiot with a gun; is an armed idiot with ideals. I’m not willing to risk the lives of my men to entertain the idea of a ‘fair’ fight.” Gilmour added; his voice oddly calm.

“Then I have no other choice sir. I’ll put in my resignation tomorrow morning.” Waters said.

His voice faltered at the idea of quitting but a man who doesn’t stand up for what he believes, isn’t a man at all.

“I’m sorry to hear it, soldier.”

Waters felt the cold steel against his chin before he could react and then everything went black at the sound of a gunshot. Glen screamed and fell back against the desk rattling everything on it.

The blast from the Glock snapped Water’s head back. The force pushed him to teeter backwards onto the floor flat out. Gilmour stared down at him, his face indifferent about what happened.

“Consider your resignation accepted, Sgt. Waters.”

His cold steely gaze found Glen’s, giving him the urge to urinate.

“Clean this up immediately, it’s already starting to stink in here.”


	24. Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hookup Part 1
> 
> After a sad breakup, Angela is willing to throw caution into the wind and try for a hookup instead. Hope she finds someone Nice, to spend some time with.

Angela sat at the table, listening to the same old break-up rhetoric from her friends. It was no use. The only thing that was going to save her tonight was the booze.

Now that Blake was gone, how was she going live without him? He was a good guy, though sometimes he got angry and took it out on her. It was a small price to pay to not sleep alone at night. She hated the nights the most.

“Are you feeling any better?” Basiir asked, nudging another shot of tequila her way.

Angela snapped it back. “I’m gonna be alone forever.”

“Girl, you know what you need?” Michelle interjected, tipping back another shot of tequila, her fourth. “You gotta get you some rebound booty.”

Vera added. “Yeah, hook up with the first guy that comes into work tomorrow.”

“Ooh, yes, but he has to be HEN or forget it.” Basiir added.

“A hen, are you high?”

“Nah Angie, listen H-E-N it stands for Hot-” She said.

“Easy.” Vera piped up after swallowing a shot.

“And Nice. If he isn’t at least two out of the three than he’s not worth your booty.” Michelle finished the explanation.

“Ugh you guys are so annoying.” Angela said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll probably just ruin it by smothering him anyway.”

“Well, if he’s all three, I say why not.” Vera nudged her. “What do you have to lose?”

“Maybe.” Angela said, fading into her drunken stupor.

The blare of her alarm force Angela’s eyes open. She couldn’t remember how she got home, but the sharp pain in the back of her head made her care about it a lot less about it.

It was shaping up to be a bad day.

After the morning rush at the coffee shop, Angela went about cleaning and restocking. Knelt down rearranging the shelves with the coffee bags, she heard someone clear their throat. Slowly she stood, surprised to see a very attractive man at the counter.

When she saw him, she remembered her friends urging her to hooking up with the first customer she saw and he definitely fit the ‘hot’ category.

He was rugged, scruffy faces, as if he were going for a wild man look and he was really pulling it off.

“May I help you?” She asked,

He looked up at the menu behind her, making a deciding noise. “ Yeah, can I get a Hazelnut Macchiato, please?”

“Sure.” Angela said, ringing him up.

“That’ll be five, forty-nine.”

He handed her a ten and smiled. “Keep the change.”

Angela’s eyes fluttered, returning the smile. “That’s so nice of you.”

Tipping a server is always a good way to earn a ‘Nice’ notch in the HEN report. That’s two out of three. Play it cool, she took note of the blush creeping along her cheeks. “Name?”

“Devin.” He said, his eyes never left hers.

Angela wrote it on the cup and went to work making his coffee.

When she finished, she had the brilliant idea to write her number on the receipt. Leave it up to fate. If he looked at it, he’d call her or he wouldn’t. If he didn’t notice the number, he’d just throw it away. No harm no foul.

They shared a lingering goodbye but he stayed with her for the rest of the morning.

Devin called her on the bus ride home. They talked for a while and before she knew it, they had a date at his place, this coming Friday.

Angela was surprised that he’d have it at his house. He explained it was a payday off-week. The best he could do at such short notice is pizza and Netflix. He offered to reschedule but Angela over-eagerly shot that idea down. In turn, he told her, he’d make it up to her at a later date.

Friday came and she rang his doorbell. She could already smell the pizza wafting through the open window. He opened the door, a confident smile on his face as he invited her in.

They ate at the dinner table, sharing a bottle of red wine. It wasn’t the best tasting, but the way he looked at her more than made up for it. 

They got onto the conversation about exes and Angela learned about Devin’s most recent. She’d left too, didn’t even leave a note. He woke up one morning and she was gone; cold-hearted bitch.

Angela couldn’t wait to comfort him, but first, they settled in to watch an old horror movie. It was the type they showed at artsy film festivals. Angela had a hard time following the plot, which was fine; she was too busy playing with Devin’s strong hands.

“I’m thirsty.” She said, inferring that she wanted to drink Devin like a tall glass of water.

“Oh yeah, there are drinks in the fridge, out in the garage.” He mumbled, barely able to take his attention off the movie. “Look in the white one, not the green one.”

Angela couldn’t believe she missed to make the connection. She’d have to try again after the movie.

In the meantime, she got up from the couch to get the drink she didn’t even want in the first place.

Angela was taken aback, when she walked into the garage. She expected to see a standard garage, but this looked more like a carpenter’s work shop. Properly arranged work space with tools hanging on the wall above. The animal heads on the wall weren’t to her taste but she could overlook it for Devin.

Another surprising thing was the two refrigerators and two freezer chests. Maybe Devin was a survivalist type and wanted to stock up. That would account for the scruffy look. Then it hit her, he was a hunter, ergo the heads on the wall. He probably stored the meat in there.

With that figured out, she was set on getting a drink. Now what did he say about the fridges, was it the white or the green?

It wasn’t the green one, that’s for sure.


	25. Naughty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hookup Part 2

Angela could barely contain her scream as she stared face to face with a woman’s head, sitting on the top shelf of the refrigerator. Her glazed eyes and gaped mouth begged her for help.

When her eyes uncrossed, Angela saw three more heads sitting behind that one, all women. God, Devin was a serial killer and Angela was stranded at his house on the outskirts of town. Terror edged in on her like a storm cloud. She had to fight to keep from collapsing into a puddle.

“Pull it together.” She whispered.

The first thought she had was to call the police but that wouldn’t improve her situation. She’d be bumped up from date to hostage real fast.

She had to think fast.

Angela closed the fridge and took out her phone, texting someone. A group message to her friends because she didn’t know who would be available but she needed someone there now.

I need help, Devin is a murderer, use the friend tracking app to find me.

When she finished the message, she quickly followed it with another just to punch the point.

If I die, know that I love you all.

Angela swallowed hard, took a soda from the right refrigerator and against her better judgment, walked back into the living room.

“You were gone a while, babe.” Devin said, shifting up from his prone position.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” She fought to keep her voice from shaking. “A girlfriend called, dying to know how the date’s going.”

“Nosey much,” He snickered. “So, what did you tell her?”

Angela almost laughed – maybe it was a cry; she couldn’t be sure which. Cracking open her soda; she took a drink to help her compose herself. If she messed this up now, it was going to be her head in that fridge.

“I told her I was having the time of my life.”

“Oh?” He seemed impressed.

She nodded and took another drink.

“Well, it’s a shame you missed the rest of the movie.” Devin gestured to the rolling credits.

“That’s alright; we’ll catch another movie sometime. I should probably get a move on, I gotta work tomorrow.”

Angela picked her purse up from the coffee table and made her way to the door. Devin swept around to meet her; his hand resting on the doorknob.

“You don’t work Saturdays.” He said with certainty.

“I picked up for someone, their kid’s sick or something.” Angela tried to play off the creepy feeling wafting off of him.

“You’ve been working at the coffee shop for about a year now and I’ve never once seen you in there on a Saturday.” He said; his eyes narrowed.

Angela’s head was starting to spin. He’d been spying on her. How did he know her work habits and not once did she not recognize him.

Slowly, he turned the bolt lock on the door, his eyes never leaving hers.

“How about you stay the night and I’ll give you a ride home in the morning?” He said.

“I work early though.”

“Oh, then I’ll drop you off at work. I’ll be heading that way anyway.” He said; his once sweet smile was looking more sinister.

“Nah, I really should get a move on, thanks though.”

“Oh, I insist.” His voice rumbled in the back of this throat.

Devin reached for her. Her reaction was much quicker as she smashed the soda can into his face. Orange soda sprayed all over the both of them, getting into Devin’s eyes.

He screamed in rage and reared back against the front door. Angela darted away; she’d have to find another way out.

Never go upstairs, was the first thought that came to her mind, too bad she had it while she was climbing the stairs, two at a time. She took the right, sharply closing all the doors she came too. She ducked into the room at the end of the hall and quietly closed the door behind her.

The room smelled hideous like a mixture of paint solvent and bleach. She flicked the flashlight on her phone, to get a lay of the room.

A hand flew up to her mouth to catch the scream trying to escape. Beneath the white-hot beam from her phone was a body hanging from the ceiling. Its arms and legs spread out along a large wooden X. It was a woman, a pair of breasts hung loosely on either side of a large gash, running down her front, dumping her contents into a metal wash bin below.

Angela wasn’t an expert but knew enough from watching TV, this body was fairly fresh. Another victim won over by Devin’s fetid charm.

“Angela!” Devin howled.

He was much closer now. At the top of the stairs, she imagined. The sound of a door opening close confirmed it.

She had to get out or hide.

To help conceal what Devin was up to inside, the windows were boarded over. Hiding was the only option left.

The closet was full of chemicals and weird tools. The rest of the room was pretty bear, with the exception of another body in the corner, covered by a sheet. It wasn’t her first choice but the only one she had.

Quickly, she settled on the floor, shifting it into her lap. The recently dead body was still warm, the thought almost made her wretch but this was survival now. She had to keep it together. Angela pulled the sheet over them, hoping it was enough to fool him. If not, she was dead.

The door opened. Through the sheet, she could see the pale light from the hall come pouring in. His silhouetted figure leaned in, looking around the room.

“Bitch ain’t as stupid as I thought.” He muttered. “Run all you want rabbit, the house is locked up tight and I got the only key.”

The wooden floor creaked as he tip-toed closer toward her hiding spot. This was it; he was going to kill her.


	26. Saint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hookup Part 3

“Angela! Are you in there?” A familiar voice came with the pounding at the door.

Angela could see Devin’s silhouette stiffen and turn towards the door. Another round of pounded prompted him out the door, closing it behind.

There was no doubt the voice belonged to Vera. To what end, though, this charming psycho might get her as well. She was small and Devin was so strong. Angela couldn’t let it happen.

She slid out from beneath the body, keeping it from flopping to the floor. That’s when she felt something brush against her leg. It was a hooked knife, like something she’d seen her dad use to cut carpet before. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing.

Angela picked it up as she got to her feet and hurried to the door.

Downstairs, she could hear Vera arguing with Devin, who was trying to control the situation by being charming and overly honest, which was a daring move.

“I’m telling you, I just got a little touchy feely with her and it made her uncomfortable. In hind sight, I feel terrible about it. I really do.” He said.

“What? Then why did she say you were a murderer?”

“Wait, she said that? I mean,” A sad tone filled his voice. “We did have a lot to drink and watched a slasher flick.”

“Where is she?” Vera snapped, leaning on the doorframe.

“She left.”

“Oh then-”

“She left her phone here and I didn’t know what to do with it. I put it upstairs. Do you want me to get it for you?” Devin caught her before she could ask about the phone.

Angela could see Vera’s face soften. Devin’s charms were working. It must be some kind of supernatural gift from the devil.

“Come in, I’ll run and get it.”

Don’t.

Angela nearly darted down the stairs but it was too late. Vera stepped in and Devin closed the door, locking it.

“What the fu-”

Devin blindsided her with a right hook. The hit was so hard, her body flailed away, crumbling hard on the other side of the coffee table.

Shaking his hand out, Devin latched the padlock. “Stupid bitch, you’ll be an amazing addition to my collection.”

Devin picked her up, easily and climbed the stairs. Angela backed away, slipping into the linin closet, he’d left open.

It was a smart choice because Devin stopped, giving a cursory look both ways, for the runaway date, before adjusting Vera in his arms. He headed down the hallway towards the room. After he got the door open, he went inside, turned the light on, and closed the door.

Angela felt a pit open in her stomach. The images of Vera’s body hanging from one of those wooden X’s was too much to bear. She was going to have to do something.

First, she’d call the police. She grabbed for her phone. It wasn’t there. She couldn’t even remember putting it in her pocket. She must have lost it in the tangle of the sheet.

Devin was going to murder Vera and it was all her fault.

No, this had to stop now and she was the one to do it.

Angela held the knife firmly in her hand and started towards the door. When she opened it, she found Devin kneeling on the ground next to the body, she’d hid under. He was holding her phone in his hand, looking at it triumphantly.

When he rose to his full height, the floor squeaked under him. She used that as cover to slip in behind him, raising the knife over her head. She only got one shot at this and it has to count.

That’s when she heard another round of pounding on the front door. Another of her friends had come to the rescue.

Shit!

Devin turned around, startled by sight of Angela standing behind him with a blade held high.

Everything slowed to a crawl as she brought the knife down. All hope drained from her as she felt his hand grip her wrist, wrenching it hard enough to make her drop the weapon.

His free hand closed around her neck, slamming her against the wall, hard enough to bounce her head.

Angela’s vision flashed white. It was swimming when it came back. Hot tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She was struggling to focus on him as he choked the life out of her.

This was it. This is what it all came down to. One bad date, one wrong move, one second of lingering too long, and now, Angela and her friends were going to die. There were so many things she’d do differently, if she could.

Something appeared behind Devin, it was hard to make out through the blurry vision but Angela was sure she saw something.

Vera?

Something flashed in the pale light of the bulb overhead and it stuck deeply into the side of Devin’s neck. There was blood, a shower of blood and screaming, but who’s screaming? It was hard to tell.

Vera pulled the weapon away, it looked like a stainless steel saw. She chopped him again, over and over. Vera hacked at him as he fought to defend himself. It was no use, eventually he settled to the floor in a quivering pile as a lake of blood pooled around him. That’s when the screaming subsided; it had been Vera all along.

“Are you alright?” She grabbed Angela by her arm.

Angela was too shocked to speak as she struggled to regain control of herself.

It didn’t matter; Vera had Devin’s keys in one hand and Angela’s hand in the other, pulling her up. She managed to pluck her phone from the floor before making a hasty retreat.

Basiir and Michelle waited outside.

When Vera managed to get the door open, two police cars, a firetruck, and an ambulance pulled up. They were safe, they managed to escape with their lives.


	27. The Tunnel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Austin, a middle school kid, is running for his life from the school bully. In a bid to save himself, he runs into the tunnel. Little does he know that there's more at risk than just a few punches.  
Forgotten Part 1 of 2

The punch was solid and he knew it hurt by the noise Billy made. It was just a knee-jerk reaction to him grabbing the back of his neck.

Austin wasn’t a fighter. He was a Cleric, level five to be exact. His main focus on keeping his party alive at all cost.

That wasn’t the case today; Austin was on the run and Billy was chasing him. In fact, the whole school was chasing them, wanting to see the trashing he was about to receive.

“There’s nowhere to run, fatso.” Billy’s voice pursued him like a nightmare phantom.

As much as Austin hated to admit it, he was right. He was running out of room, fast.

The dry riverbed dead-ended at the tunnel which was one place where kids never went. No one went there and lived to tell about it.

He could try to run up one of the tall embankments on either side but he wasn’t coordinated enough to navigate the soft dirt and dead leaves. He’d fall and Billy would be on him in a second.

“Oh fat boy, you’re gonna get such a pounding.” Billy called.

Austin imagined the bully picking up speed like a cheetah ready to pounce.

The tunnel it was then.

Against his better judgment; he ran into the darkness. Behind him he could hear the other kids coming to a stop, a collective gasp rolling over them. The impeding fight was all but forgotten. Now they were talking about Austin. Was he stupid? Was he brave?

Austin could hear them clearly.

“You dumbass,” Billy panted. “You’re going to get eaten by the troll under there.”

“You’re not going in after him?” Richie, the new kid, asked.

“What?”

Austin could see the fear on Billy’s face. The troll rumors must be true if the toughest boy in school was scared.

“Go in after him or are you chicken-shit.” Richie smirked.

“I’m not scared.”

“Are you sure, you look like you’re about piss yourself.”

The other kids laughed. Even Austin laughed, it echoed loudly in the tunnel behind him.

Billy snatched around, glaring into the hole.

“I’ll show you, pussies, I ain’t scared.” He said, walking towards the opening.

Austin felt his heart jump to his throat as he backed away. Then he became weightless. It was as if the ground opened up beneath him and he was falling into the darkness beneath him. His screams alerting the kids that something wasn’t right.

***

The noxious smell grabbed him first. It smelled earthen, dank, and rancid. Austin’s eyes fluttered open but they might as well been closed. He was surrounded by darkness. It bore down on him like a bad dream. It was also deathly quiet, which only added to the creepy ambiance.

He sat up from the moist muck on the ground. A pain rippled through his arm. He could still move it, so it wasn’t broken.

In his backpack, Austin pulled out his small penlight; his only savoir when he couldn’t sleep at night but didn’t want his parents to know he was up late, reading.

The light didn’t do much against the darkness. The chamber was too immense; the beam couldn’t reach the walls in any direction. He didn’t even know where to start walking to figure it out.

That’s when the pale beam crossed over something in the dark. He felt his heart jump. When he moved it back, whatever it was was gone now. It was probably a trick of the light but he could have sworn-

“Why are you here?” A whispering voice passed behind him.

Austin screamed and fell out in the mush on the ground. The flashlight was pointed straight up to where he’d fallen from.

A pale face appeared in the beam. A girl with stringy black hair, dark circles around her steel-blue eyes. She was gaunt, but bore a bright smile when she saw him.

“Who are you?” Austin asked, ignoring the fact that he’d pissed himself.

“I’m Elle.” She said; her voice was ethereal.

“Ellen Troll?” Austin snapped up.

“You’ve heard of me?” She asked, moving around to face him.

“Yeah, you went missing last year. God, your parents were so messed up over it. You’ve been here the whole time? They’re going to be so stoked to see you again.”

Elle smiled, it sent a ripple along her waxy complexion. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“What’s to get? I’m just so excited I found you. Wait ‘til they see-”

“I’m dead.” Elle sighed.

“No, you’re – holy shit you’re a ghost!”

“Calm down, Austin.” Elle laughed.

“But – but-”

“It’s okay.” She nodded; black strands of hair fell over her eyes.

“How did you die?” Austin asked, wincing at the idea that it might be rude question.

“There’s a boy at school, William Lang.”

“Billy, yeah, he chased me in here.”

“Oh so you know him. Well, he – you know. It might be easier to just show you.” Elle said, reaching for him.

Austin pulled away. Feeling sheepish, he leaned in and let her hand rest on his sore arm. It was almost as if he could see inside her mind or if she were inside of him. Everything played out like an old movie with muted colors.

He could see Billy, pressing her against a tree, clumsily making out. He watched Billy paw at her furiously, trying to get ahold of her breast. Elle pulled from the kiss, trying to tell him to stop.

When he insisted, she shoved him hard. He fell back into the mud, glaring up at her with that same death-stare he wore right before he pounded someone

“I’m not ready for this, William.” Elle stated.

She adjusted her shirt and walked by.

Billy got up from the ground and grabbed her wrist. Everything slowed to a crawl. The images grew colder and darker, blurring as he moved. With a rock in hand, he smashed her against the side of her head…


	28. The Tomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgotten Part 2 of 2

“Afterwards, Billy dragged me into the tunnel and pitched me into that hole.” Elle said. “I was still alive, I died later that night, alone and afraid.”

Austin couldn’t believe what he’d seen. Hot tears ran down his cheeks as rage boiled inside of him. If he truly were a Cleric, he would cast raise dead and be done with this. That can’t happen, this was real life. He knew Billy was trouble but to what extent? He murdered her.

“So that’s why you’re still here, huh?” Austin asked, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Because you’re a vengeful spirit, hell bent of settling up with Billy before you can pass on.”

Elle squealed. “No, you dork. What kind of stuff are you reading?”

“In D&D, a specter is created because of something traumatic happens that keeps them from moving on.” Austin explained, it only made Elle laugh harder.

“No, no I’m stuck here because I didn’t have a proper burial.” She swept in close, pointing over his shoulder.

He shown the flashlight over to where he’d landed. Crumpled next to his indent was Elle’s body. It was starting to decay. Bloated and sickening to look at, but Austin could see the resemblance. He could even make out the dent in the side of her head from where Billy hit her.

“So you’re stuck here?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess we have something in common.”

“What? No, you’re not stuck here. There’s a tunnel that way, it leads to a slope that lets out near Braeburn Ave. If Billy hadn’t thunked my head, I could have easily walked home.”

“Do you…”

Elle looked at him, cocking her head to the side, questioningly.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Austin spoke up.

“You’d do that?”

“Yeah, no one deserves to be down here, forgotten.”

Elle touched her ethereal chest and feigned a deep breath as if she were trying to find the words. She didn’t have to say anything. Austin was already pulling his coat off as he walked over to the body. He laid it over her and tried to lift her.

Elle’s body was soggy and heavy but he managed to work it out of the muck. The smell was awful but once he worked his shirt over his nose, it was bearable.

“I wish I could help you carry this load.” Elle whispered.

“Nah, you did your part by telling me how to get out of here. I’ll do the rest.” Austin grunted, starting to walk the direction, she’d mentioned.

“Thank you, Austin.”

“No problem, if you could do just one more thing for me?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t tell anyone I pissed myself.”

“I’ll take it too my grave.” Elle giggled.

“Dark humor, nice!” Austin laughed.

Austin was already used to the extra weight. The thing he was concerned about was the incline leading out. If the ground was slick, or too steep; he’d have problems getting up.

Luckily, it wasn’t as bad as he thought. He’d slipped a bit near the top but managed to correct himself before sliding down. The rest of the way up was done by walking on his knees.

It was dark, when he stepped out of the tunnel. Rivervale’s autumn air was always cold. It sent a shiver all through him.

“My house isn’t far, do you need a rest?” Elle asked.

“I’m good, I think.”

Elle drifted a few feet along the sidewalk, beckoned him along.

Austin followed until she stopped in front of a once beautiful house; he’d seen on his way to the card shop. The blue paint and white trim were chipping and fading. Big picture windows sat on either side of the front door. The curtains were drawn. It never occurred to him that it was Ellen Troll’s house.

Austin struggled up the walkway. About the time he reached the porch, his strength finally gave out. It forced him to set her down, allowing him a moment to catch his breath.

The front door opened as he reached for the bell. A man and woman peered out at him warily through the screen door. This was the moment all of his hard work led up to and it never dawned on him, what he was going to say?

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Troll.” He began.

“Austin James?” The dad questioned. “You’re Dennis’ kid. Can I help you with something?”

“I found Elle.”

It was all he could muster as he pointed towards the body lying on the porch next to him. He heard Elle, behind him, started to sob. There was such a force behind it; he couldn’t keep himself from losing it.

The dad came out, pulling the jacket away before letting out a deep throated cry. Elle’s mother stumbled out, embracing Austin, trying to calm him enough to find out what happened before she succumb to her own emotional breakdown.

***

The next few days were insane. Austin was interviewed by police, the News, and Elle’s family. A hospital visit, then there was a funeral and a few days off of school. His parents were so supportive and loving, but the one who really got him through it all was Elle. She stayed by his side, to help keep him strong.

Two weeks passed and Austin stood in the school yard, Elle was by his side. All eyes were on him as Billy approached. He’d been mousy ever since Austin found the body and brought it home.

“Move dork.” He barked bumping into Austin.

“Or what,” Austin said, calculating the perfect thing to say. “You gonna smash me in the head with a rock like you did Elle.”

A fearful look came to Billy’s face. It was the same one, he’d seen from the mouth of the tunnel. Billy lowered his head and hurried off the other way. Austin could hear the school kids murmuring and internalizing this.

“Well played.” Elle giggled.

“This is just the beginning. I’m gonna break him down, little by little.”

“Hell yeah.”


	29. Garbage Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliot, a NYC garbage man. is as common as he is simple. He has a dream of giving back to his community but finds a most unorthodox way of doing it.

There are a lot of people that believe the most haunted places in the world are those old Romanian towers or maybe some of those plague ridden hamlets throughout the European countryside. No one doubts the ghosties haunting the dungeons of merry old England. I’m here to tell you, the most haunted place in the world is the New York City garbage dump. Hand to god, I’m not fooling.

I know you’re saying, but Elliot, why? Well, I’ll tell you why? There’s a lot of crime in this city; crimes that have the worst outcome.

For instant, if you cross the mob, you get shot. Go into an opposing gang territory, you get stuck. There are the violent raping, abandoned babies, and even the homeless people that collapse because of starvation or the cold.

You know what happen to most of those bodies? They get dumped in the garbage. Since most garbage men don’t go through the trash prior to pick up, the bodies end up in the dump. It’s a sad fact.

Well, these ghosts can’t move on from here because of last rites and proper burials. I mean, sometimes the police investigate. They get the body and eventually they get buried, but until that happens; the ghosts just hang around, lost.

Every day, I’d go to work and these ghosts would follow me around, crying and complaining about how they got left behind and how miserable they were. It wears on you after a while. I wanted to help them find the passage on. I wanted them to find peace, but mostly, I just didn’t want to feel bad going to work anymore.

That’s when I came up with this great idea. Why not give them their last rites right here? I know you’re thinking, ugh, it’s a dump. Yeah, it is but there’s good earth underneath.

So, on our time off, me and a few of the guys came in and cleared a big chunk of space at the back of the lot. One by one we gathered up the bodies, we found. Sometimes the ghosts would lead us to them. We started burying them. Hell, even Gay Gary took an online course to be ordained a minister, just to make it more official.

Here we were, doing god’s work to make things better. That’s when it dawn on me, even though I’m a good Catholic and Gay Gary’s a good Christian, not everyone else is.

So I sit down with these ghosts and I say to them. “Hey, so, what can I do to help those of you all who don’t follow the teaching of Christ our savior?”

This old Jewish woman floats up and says to me. “Elliot, darling, we appreciate all you’re doing for us; we couldn’t ask you for more.”

Of course I’m like. “No no, I couldn’t live with myself, if I knew you all got left behind, ya know?”

“If you can’t do it, maybe you can bring someone who can.” She smiled.

I didn’t even know ghosts could smile but there it was. So, that’s what I did.

I spoke to the new kid, Isaiah, and he said to me that his great uncle was a Rabbi. It didn’t take much to convince him to come down and help with the burial rites. He even taught Isaiah how to do it, so he wouldn’t have to keep coming back to the dump.

That was just the start of it too. After that, we all took turns spreading out to make connections for other religions to come and help get these ghosts to where they needed to go. Even the boss allotted us some resources to get things underway. It was the biggest thing we could do for these ghosts and this city.

We all felt like we’re giving back for a change.

“So,” the young man asked, shifting on the milk crate, underneath him. “Why are you telling me all this, Elliot?”

“I’m telling you because you’re going to have to take over the business sooner or later.” Elliot pursed his lips into a smile. “There are still a lotta ghosts out there, more and more come every day.”

The boy stiffened and looked around the room at all the eyes on him. This was a lot to take in and even more to keep a straight face over, but this Elliot guy seemed to really believe what he was talking about.

“Ghosts though, that’s a hard pill to swallow. Will I even be able to see them?”

Elliot smiled. “You’re seeing me, right?”

The boy leaned back sharply. “What? Are you telling me, you’re a ghost?”

“That’s right,” He smirked. “I died last week. I asked my wife to hold back my burial until I could get a few younger guys on board with our little ritual.”

The boy didn’t say anything; his skeptical look couldn’t be ignored.

“I know it’s a big job but you’re not doing it alone. You have my word on that. These boys behind me are as committed to this as I was and they’ll be with you every step of the way. We just need to know you’re willing to take a chance.” Elliot explained.

“I don’t know.” He said grimly. “I spent my life not believing in the devil, god, heaven, or hell. I sure as fuck didn’t believe in ghosts and I don’t believe in the boogieman.”

“I think we were all there once, kid, but that changed. I don’t know if religion is real, as I haven’t quite been there, yet, but I can tell you honestly, ghosts are real and they need your help.”

The boy rested his chin on his hands and through for a long moment.

“These guys will help me out, right?”

“I guarantee it.”

“Alright, what the hell, I’ll do it.” He sighed.

“Thattaboy! You’re gonna love this job. Not only do you make good money, but you’re scoring some high points for the afterlife.”


	30. On Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Atwater has been suffering to find meaning in his life for as long as he can remember. When he as a brush with something supernatural, he gets a whole new perspective on things.  
The Doctor is In Part 1 of 2

A somber beep sung the passing of the man on the bed.

_9:45 PM, October 29, 2019. Markus Petrov, 48, advanced case of Pneumonia;_ Dr. Atwater filled out the paperwork. He slapped the steel clipboard closed, passing it to one of his nurses.

“Take him down to the morgue. Let Lester know he can start the autopsy, whenever.”

Atwater’s gray face remained unfeeling.

It was the same thing every winter. Folks get sick and wait too long to go to the doctor and then something like this happens. Petrov showed up at the ER unable to breath and now four hours later, he’s dead. Over the age of forty and pneumonia wasn’t just a cold; it should be taken seriously.

Atwater was fifty-two and his mortality was a main focal point of his life. He’d like to live long enough to retire and enjoy it.

Such thoughts were distasteful. A man, under his care, was dead because he was a fool and could be bothered to come to the doctor sooner.

Could he have though? With the cost of insurance and medical coverage, cases of death caused by treatable illness have sky-rocketed. Capitalist fat cats getting rich off the poor and unfortunate, it made him sick.

“Here’s his paperwork sir?” The receptionist handed him the bundle.

The number of trees that died just so they could document everyone that passed through the ER was laughable. Remember, they need that in triplicates. It was just a trail of death in the graveyard of his life.

“Mrs. Petrov?” He addressed the surprisingly young woman standing in the waiting room.

Two teenage boys flanked her at his arrival. It only dug the hole in his soul deeper. It opened a hellish pit to his stomach that was constantly ablaze from the day to day.

“No, I’m his oldest, our mother passed away a few years ago.”

Her large brown eyes tried to decipher what his report was.

Just fucking great, Atwater swallowed hard; his silver gaze struggled to keep even with hers.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

It was all he had to say. Tears filled her eyes and she collapsed into the arms of her pimple-faced brother, who was barely strong enough to hold himself up, no less her.

“We did everything we could.” Atwater explained, knowing they couldn’t hear him; they never did.

“Can we see him?” The other boy asked.

“Not tonight, I’m afraid. He has to be-”

Did you almost said processed? Petrov wasn’t a piece of meat on a butcher hook. He wasn’t being broken down and shipped to factories for whole sale. Petrov was a person, a human being, survived by these three kids, who were barely old enough to take care of themselves.

“I’ll call you in the morning and let you know when there’s a better time.”

“Thank you, Doc.” His daughter said.

“Can you get yourselves home?” Atwater asked. “I can call for a ride for you.”

“No, we have father’s car.” One of the boys said, tearing up.

“These are his discharge papers. Don’t worry about the bill; I’ll take care of it.”

“We don’t want your charity.” She said; her words were more from shock than condemnation.

“No, really, it’s the least I can do.”

“Thank you so much.” She teared up again and hugged him.

Atwater felt sick to his stomach, holding this young woman. He knew she was desperately trying to escape this pain and anguish and all he could do was lie and tell her ‘everything’s going to be alright’. It most certainly wouldn’t be but that was the way of things nowadays.

Atwater escorted the three to the door and watched them wander out in the darkness that swallowed them up.

“Hey, Lester needs you to call him at your earliest convenience.” The receptionist said as she walked by.

“Alright, give me a minute.” Atwater was sure he’d said but he couldn’t really tell if he spoke at all.

He dug his phone out of his pocket and sought the picture of the mortician, Lester. The visage of Fester Addams glared back at him. It was as tasteless and tactless as the man himself. He pressed the green phone button and pressed it to his ear.

It rang all of two times before Lester picked up. He greeted with his normal, nasally tone.

“Hey Doc,” He said. “So, we have a bit of a predicament.”

Atwater made a ‘huh’ noise with his nose before shifting the phone to his other ear. He ran a shaky hand through his salt and peppered hair.

“Yeah, one of the idiot interns brought me an empty gurney or something.”

“What?” Atwater straightened up, feeling a spike of pain in the side of his head.

“Just what I said, buddy, I have a gurney down here with a toe-tag and no corpse. The name on the tag is one Petrov, M. There’s a sheet on the floor, but-”

Atwater hung up the phone and hurried out of the small breakroom, down the hall towards the morgue elevator.

It felt as if the whole world was swimming around him. His heart pounded in his chest. Petrov was dead; he’d check two pulse points and the EKG wouldn’t lie. The nurse hooked it up correctly; he’d check it himself.

The idea that the man was still alive was disconcerting. It would make him look grossly inefficient in his job. It could cost him dearly in the long run. None of that mattered though. He’d menaced three kids by telling them their father was dead and they were orphans. It was unforgiveable.

The elevator down to the morgue was at the end of the hall. When he reached it, he hit the down button numerous times as if it would help speed it along.

When the door opened, Atwater fell back a few steps at the sight of a man inside the elevator. It took two additional glances for him to recognize Mr. Petrov, himself.


	31. Answered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor Is In  
Part 2 of 2

Petrov was taller than when he arrived at the ER. His body massive in stature than Atwater remembered. It was easy for the man to grab his lab coat lapel and pull him into the elevator, the door closed behind him.

The man was pale and gaunt around the face. If he wasn’t dead, he was really close to it.

“We should get you to a hospital bed.” Atwater said.

Petrov said nothing, he pressed the button for B1 on the console and the elevator started descending.

“My sincerest apologies, I may have made a mistake.” Atwater said. “For all intent and purposes, you were dead.”

“I am still dead.” He said with his thick Russian accent.

Atwater felt his mouth dry. “You’re a zombie.”

“Heh, maybe,” He smiled darkly. “I was a ghost first, I think. I came to say goodbye to my children, but I couldn’t. Ghost can speak to those who aren’t – well ghostly.”

That makes sense, Atwater almost replied but that was stupid, none of this made sense.

“I saw what you did for my kids; it was very noble.”

“It’s my job.”

“No, Steve, it’s not. Your job is to treat patients, not take on the emotional weight of the family left behind.” Petrov said. “All your life, you’ve went above and beyond for those around you. That’s the reason you became a doctor in the first place. You sacrifice in the hopes of a better tomorrow.”

“Nah, I got into it for the money, so I could retire at fifty-five.” Atwater smirked.

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but with death comes never ending knowledge. You tell others it’s all about the money because it keeps people at a distance. You drive a fancy car because people’s expectations, but you secretly hate it. You refuse to go on that date with Cheryl because she works at the same hospital as you do. In truth, you’re afraid of becoming attached to someone.”

“So what, everyone lies to themselves every day. We tell ourselves that it’ll get better that the world’s not falling apart. We say, I’m making a difference, while secretly we know we’re not. That’s life.” Atwater said bitterly.

Petrov laughed. “You don’t really believe that.”

“No, but what I do believe is I made a huge mistake putting my job first. I missed so many chances to find love over the years. If I have a kid at fifty-five, I’ll be seventy-five by the time they go to school. I’m old and useless.” Atwater sighed

“In truth, I just want to be selfish but I can’t find it in myself because I don’t want to be like them.”

“Like who?”

“Like my mom and dad. He forced me to become a doctor. Mom wasn’t happy unless I was making her look good. I was afraid that if I had kids, I’d do the same thing as them, so I just didn’t.” Atwater’s lips drew tight. “And now I’m alone.”

“You don’t have to be.” Petrov said.

“But I do, I feel I have this capacity to take so much from this world.”

“And that makes you feel bad?” Petrov asked.

“Yeah,” He sighed. “I don’t deserve to be happier than anyone else.”

“That’s true, but you deserve to forgive yourself for things you’ve not done. You have the right to excuse the actions of other people. Don’t carry everyone else’s burden, yours is heavy enough.” Petrov explained.

Atwater sighed; it was a lot to take in. Thoughts bounced around in his head for a moment. That’s when he realized the elevator never reached its destination. They’d been descending this whole time.

Petrov said. “You have to make a choice to live for you because there’s no reason to wake up day after day if you’re just living for somebody else. It sounds selfish but it’s the only way to feel better.”

“It’s harder than you think.”

“No.” Petrov turned his dark gaze to Atwater. “I put my livelihood before my family every day and look what happened, I died. I refused to take care of those who took care of me and now my kids have to live without. They’re barely adults and they’re alone in this world now. I cheated them as you cheated yourself.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You did a good deed for my family and this is the only way I can repay you. Don’t squander your potential. Live your life.”

“Just live.”

Just live?

Atwater took a gasping breath; the plastic mask across his face was tight. A white light blinded him when he opened his eyes. Was this the light guiding him to heaven? He could hear a symphony of a staccato blip, playing for him. It wasn’t quite the holy angels with harps he’d hoped for in his passing. No, he wasn’t dying. His body ached too much. It felt like a marriage of blistering heat and freezing cold, all through him.

Then he felt a warm hand on his chest and his eyes met Cheryl’s soft round face.

“Steve?” She said.

He couldn’t speak, he didn’t have the strength.

“You’re an idiot,” She laughed, almost in tears. “I can’t imagine you embarrassment, almost dying of Pneumonia?”

Atwater’s eyes narrowed. In spite of the clingy rubber mask across his face, he smiled. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d almost died the same thing Petrov did. It would have been so-

Petrov’s face appeared over Cheryl’s shoulder and he gave Atwater a wide smile before walking away.

Everything Petrov said came rushing back and Atwater looked at Cheryl, trying to remove the mask.

“You leave that on, Steve.” She said. “Tell me what you want.”

“Will you go out with me?”

Cheryl stiffened up; the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her either. Her pale rosy lips pulled tight in a smile.

“You pull through this and I will, but first let’s get you better.” She said.

“It’s a deal.” Atwater managed, relaxing in her care; excited to see where this path would lead him.


End file.
